


Highway Man

by ollypopp



Series: Biker!Mando AU [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Absent Characters, Absent Parents, Alcohol, Angst, Biker AU, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Choking (Non-Sexual), Cigarettes, Cunnilingus, Domestic Fluff, Dry Humping, Dysfunctional Family, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, F/M, Fire, Force-Feeding, Guns, Kidnapping, Masturbation in Shower, Nudity, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Panic Attacks, Reader-Insert, Sex Work, Slow Burn, Vaginal Fingering, discussions of a divorce, hospital-like setting, liberal use of pain meds, loose descriptions of trauma responses, non-sexual nudity, thigh riding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:27:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 81,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29074053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ollypopp/pseuds/ollypopp
Summary: A Biker AU || The Mandalorians are a well-known biker gang whose reach spreads around the world. They are as mysterious as they are dangerous and anyone with common sense knows not to cross them. When a Mandalorian bounty hunter arrives on your doorstep demanding payments from your brother, it is only the beginning of a chain of events that uproot your life.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You
Series: Biker!Mando AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2133093
Comments: 16
Kudos: 157





	1. Devil to Pay

**Author's Note:**

> This stemmed from a request over on tumblr and turned into a HUGE AU! I was inspired by a few artists, all credits are here for the masterlist on my tumblr where it can also be read if you are so inclined. (https://ollypopp.tumblr.com/post/629369608905883649/bikermando-masterlist-paring-bikermando-x)

You felt yourself tense up the moment you heard the motorcycle pull up, obnoxiously loud, and from your spot inside the shop you could see the silver glint of the polished body. This was inevitable, you knew, you just hoped you had more time to figure it out before he came to your door. You felt you could hear every movement in your loft above the little flower shop; it was too late to call out a warning. 

When the bells on the door jingled as he entered, you were sure to be busy repotting a spider plant. The heavy thud of boots on the concrete floor was just as loud as your heart in your chest. It was humid in your shop, but the sweat forming on your palms had nothing to do with that. You took a deep breath, you had to play this off no matter how scared you were. 

“Excuse me,” the voice was muffled and gravely. 

“Hello,” you turned with the most natural smile you could muster, wiping your hands free of damp soil. “Can I help you find anything?”

Poor choice of words and you regretted saying them the moment they came out of your mouth. Before you seemed to be a wall of a man. He wore a black shirt and over it an immaculate vest with patches whose meaning you couldn’t really parse. His voice was muffled by the helmet that was still on his head, all black with a silver visor that was so reflective you could see a distorted image of yourself in it but kept all of his features hidden completely. 

“I’m looking for Tycho,” he responded blandly. “The word on the street is he’s been hiding out at his sister’s place -- that’s you right?” 

It was no surprise at all, but to hear him ask for your brother made you feel like you were dunked in ice-cold water. Your rose an eyebrow and you stuck your chin out almost stubbornly. 

“He isn’t here,” you said evenly. “He left the state after he and Syala split up. I haven't heard from him since then. Sorry.” 

There was a heavy silence between the two of you. Aside from all the fear, a little bit of anger rose up in you as well. You just wanted him to leave. There was no give from either of you; his shining visor blankly stayed focused on you and you stood there glaring back at him. The little bit of dirt that was smudged on your cheek, and some stray leaves stuck in your hair offset the dangerous way your eyes blazed like you were challenging him to call your bluff. 

“For a liar, you’re very beautiful,” he said, still muffled but the tone had a bit of amusement to it. 

“Excuse me?” Was this man -- this man who was hunting your brother -- hitting on you? “How dare you -- “

But he walked away before you could finish your sentence and was quickly stalking towards that back door. Panic rose in your throat, he might just be looking around and if you said the wrong thing it might tip him off to the fact that yes, you were lying. 

“You can’t go back there, sir, it’s --” 

He didn’t listen, just walked through the doorway that led up to your home. There was a shout from a familiar voice followed by a pained grunt and then the helmeted man was dragging your brother out of the doorway. He must have been listening in, and you internally cursed him for not just staying up in the loft. You rushed forward, not sure exactly what you would do but there was no way you were gonna let him take your brother without a fight. 

You and your brother were never close, especially not after he started getting into trouble with the law and other lawbreakers. But he was family -- you weren’t gonna let him be dragged off. 

Before you could get to them the stranger threw him against one of your displays of flowers, knocking a few pots off of the shelf and rattling glass. It broke your heart to see your brother so scared and immediately begging for forgiveness from this person. The show of violence scared you and when the man grabbed your brother's shirt and drew him in real close you reached for the phone on the counter to call for help. 

“You’re late again, Tycho,” the voice growled, “that’s six months in a row now.” 

“I’ll get the money, I swear,” Tycho whined, “I just need some time --”

“And Syala and the kids need to keep their roof over their heads,” the man interrupted. “This is your last warning.” 

“This is about child support?” You had stopped dialing, as you processed what you had just heard. “You haven't paid Syala in _ six months _ ?” your voice was shrill with fury and shock.

Your anger was now boiling at your brother. He never told you why The Mandalorians had it out for him, he just said they were coming after him and he had nowhere else to go. You thought of how angry you had been at Syala about the breakup, and how you hadn’t seen your nieces and nephews in months -- suddenly you felt like you were missing some important pieces of the story. 

You walked up to them with a frown, glaring at your brother and then turning to the Mandalorian. “I can send you back with part of what he owes,” you said, “I have some saved up.”

“You don’t owe the money,” his tone was insistent as he shook your brother slightly, “ _ he _ does.” 

“ _ He _ doesn’t have it,” you retorted. The silver visor stared back at you, but he said nothing. “If it’s for the kids I’m more than happy to help her out.”

The Mandalorian let go of your brother who stayed awkwardly leaned against the display case catching his breath and careful not to bring any more attention to himself. You disappeared for a moment to your safe and pulled out as much as you could spare. It wasn’t ideal, but you had enough to keep the shop running. It would have to do. You piled the cash into one of the linen reusable bags you sold with your shop’s name printed across it and handed it over. 

The Mandolorian took it from you, reached inside, and handed over one of the stacks back to you. 

“For any damages,” he gestured to the now ruined display of ferns your brother was now untangling himself from. “We won’t accept any more payments from you,” he said plainly, “it’s his responsibility.” 

And he would face the consequences if he failed to do his duty again. It was unspoken but you and your brother could piece it together. When the Mandalorian turned to leave you finally saw the back of the vest -- the patch saying clear as day who he was affiliated with. “The Mandalorians” ribboned over a Mythosaur skull and a single phrase in a language that you couldn’t read beneath it. You gripped the cash in your hands and moved to the door to lock it once he stepped out. 

He mounted the motorcycle and before he pulled away you saw the small license plate: ‘RZRCRST.’ The bike was loud when it started up and set off a few other car alarms as he swiftly took off down the busy street your shop sat in the middle of. You were intrigued, to say the least. Most stories you heard about The Mandalorians were filled with fear and contempt -- but that one was simply looking out for somebody else’s kids. 

You weren’t sure who he was or even what he looked like, but all the anger you had felt about him showing up to your shop was gone. He was looking out for your brother’s ex-wife and kids -- when you turned towards your brother who refused to look you in the eye.

“Grab a broom and clean up that mess,” you demanded. “You better find a fucking job, Tycho. If he comes back I’m not covering for your ass again.”

  
  
  
  
  



	2. Muddy Waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A part of you was still intimidated by his presence. He hadn’t tried to hurt you, hell, he didn’t even raise his voice at you once. But the fact that he knew so much of your family’s business and you had no idea what his name was or what he looked like made you uneasy. You had no idea what he and the rest of the Mandos were really capable of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is gonna be a little bit more world-building and setting up a longer plot, so I hope it’s not too filler-y.  
> Warnings for this chapter: Language, a sex joke, discussions of divorce, unsafe driving

With the bag of cash stuffed in his saddlebag Din rode down the main street, the pipes were loud enough to set off a couple of car alarms but he was out of sight before anyone could even take a look at the license plate. His temper was slipping and flying down the street at a breakneck speed was the only thing that kept him from turning back towards your shop.

He expected you to cover for your brother, but he had not expected you to whip out a couple of months of savings and just hand it over. It wasn’t necessarily uncommon for people to offer up payment on the behalf of others, but never so much at once and never with any concern of the wronged party. 

The only thing keeping him from intervening was knowing that he left Tycho with you. He knew the man had taken punches before, been roughed up out of intimidation but judging by the way you had not stood up to him in righteous indignation, your brother was in for your wrath for a while. 

He almost didn’t take the money. It was bad enough when he had to go through family members but the fact you had no idea why your brother was in hiding until some biker strolled into your shop asking questions made the whole situation feel uncomfortable. And to top it off he had broken some of your potted plants in the scuffle. He should have been more mindful.

But Syala was now living at the Conclave after struggling to pay rent and feed three kids all by herself -- she did need the money to get back on her feet. His temper got the best of him. At least he wouldn’t be coming back empty-handed. 

The Covert was a twenty-minute drive away from town if one was going the speed limit, Din was pulling up much sooner signaling a wave at a few other Mandalorians leaving through the gates. It was bustling in the afternoon sunshine, foundlings and descendants running around screaming and playing. He spotted Nessa, the eldest of Syala and Tycho’s kids roughhousing with another boy; his face was pressed into the dirt as he failed to get out of her locked hold on him. 

He passed by them towards Syala’s temporary home, noting that the door was wide open. Din knocked before stepping over the threshold. Syala was kneeling down, quietly soothing a distraught Lysa who had a steady stream of tears tracking through some dust on her cheeks. Syala was wiping dirt off of Lysa’s knee, which was scraped and bleeding a little, and if all of that chaos wasn’t enough the youngest Jido was shrieking with laughter adding to the mix of sounds. Din sighed when he heard an all too familiar giggle. 

Jido was in his bouncer, jumping up and down and grinning showing off his brand new tooth. In front of him, leaning precariously on the jumper was Junior, making a series of absurd faces. Jido laughed and Junior was only further encouraged. 

“Is Nessa still out there?” Syala asked. 

“She’s got one of the boys in a headlock,” Din informed her. 

“Christ,” the woman muttered, grabbing a bandaid out of the small first-aid box next to her. 

Nessa came in the door moments later, looking altogether proud of herself. “Here, mama, let me.”

Nessa took to helping her sister, and Syala stood and took a deep breath. Her dark hair was falling out of a once-neat bun, and she put her hands on her hips before facing Din. Since he was still wearing his helmet, his gentle nod towards the kitchen was the only thing that alerted her to the fact he had some kind of news. Syala took the lead and when Din passed by he made sure the two youngest children in the room were fine. Junior was steady on his feet, still preoccupied with entertaining Jido. 

Once they were out of earshot of the girls, Syala started in. “Did you find him?”

“He was where our connections said he was,” Din nodded. “Hiding out in his sister’s store.” he placed the bag of money on the counter. 

Syala’s eyebrows knit together. “What’s this?”

“Some back pay.”

“He gave you this?” Syala opened up the sack and blinked a few times at the amount of money in the bag. 

“His sister did.” When Syala said nothing, Din continued, “I don’t think she knew why I was there. When she found out...she wanted to make sure you and the kids had some cash to get by until he gets back on track with payments.”

Syala was flummoxed, lost for words as she peered at the name printed on the bag. “Demeter’s Garden?”

“It’s the name of her shop,” Din said. There was a long pause, “how is he doing?”

The mention of the kid brought Syala away from whatever thoughts she was trying to piece together. “He’s great,” she nodded with a little smile, “he and Jido keep each other entertained, he isn’t fussy.”

“I’m heading out on a bounty tomorrow morning,” he replied after a single nod, “should only be a day or two. I’ll give you ten percent.”

Syala shrugged, they’d done this a couple of times now. He offers her the chance to watch Junior and make extra cash -- and always offers a little more than he probably should. She was, after all, living in the Covert for free. She felt a little overwhelmed at the generosity. Especially Din who went on this excursion to her ex-sister-in-law’s home and place of work to get her some help. 

They went through the motions of her telling him he didn’t have to offer her that much, and him pointing that damn motorcycle helmet back at her with no hint of his expression. He always ended up paying her whether she asked him to or not, so she agreed to it. When he left Nessa was fiercely arguing with her mother about the boy outside. He had pushed Lysa down and the eldest daughter wouldn’t stand for it. He couldn’t help but think the girl reminded him of you. It made Tycho’s actions even more of a conundrum to him knowing the two of you were related. Hell, Junior wasn’t even Din’s by any blood and even he could never imagine leaving all of the responsibility to someone else. 

In their own home, he removed the helmet and looked over Junior. He trusted Syala, especially while she was on the grounds of the Covert, but out of habit he always checked for bumps and bruises after he came back. Finding him unharmed he continued to carry the baby around with him while he made himself ready for a longer ride. The kid grinned and babbled at him, tiny hands grabbing at the leather of his vest. 

He was starting to believe Junior better behaved for Syala than he was for his adopted father -- she said he never fussed and stayed out of trouble. Din couldn’t put him down for a moment without him trying to get into things or curiously wandering around. Thankfully he sat still when Din set him on the counter while he cooked -- always within reach just in case but the kid just watched and made noises at him. The one-sided conversations they had felt a little less one-sided now that he was starting to try and talk. 

The kid hadn’t even been with him that long, and he still felt guilty every time he had to leave him behind. 

  
  


* * *

A couple of weeks after your visit from one of the infamous Mandalorians, your shop was back to normal. The broken pots had been swept up, the plants they housed had been rehomed and were looking like they might be able to sell at a discount. If it weren’t for your little shop and big brother being the talk of the town it would have been like it never happened. 

The bells above the door jingled and your brother came through the door. You could practically see a raincloud hovering above him, his face contorted into a scowl and nostrils flaring. He sulked past you and towards the back door, stomping up the steps to your loft above. Rolling your eyes, you let him simmer down for a bit before flipping the sign on the door to the side that said ‘We’ll be right back!.’ 

When you made your way up you found him drinking a beer and slouched into an armchair. The television was on, but his eyes were barely watching a bland commercial.

You grabbed a glass of water for yourself, looking at him over the tiny island that separated your modest kitchen from your only slightly larger living room. “No luck?”

“Town’s too small,” he grumbled, “no one’ll give me a chance.” 

You bit the inside of your lip. The town wasn’t too terribly small, but everyone knew who the Mandos were and when one of them marked you most people figured you were up to no good. 

“You gotta keep trying,” you insisted, “if one of them comes back they might not take the money from me again.”

His face went blank, and although you barely heard him he said, “he was right -- you shouldn’t have to.”

You sighed a little, feeling a bit helpless. The money you had offered up before had taken a noticeable chunk out of your savings for the store. You weren’t sure if you could sustain a grand total of seven people on your earnings alone and keep the store running. Hell, running the store on your own sometimes got to be a little too much. But leaving your brother or his kids high and dry was not an option either. That sparked an idea.

“They just need some proof your word is good,” you said plainly.

“And where am I gonna get that?” Tycho asked dryly.

“Here,” you said, “work for me, pay off part of what I gave Syala and give it a little while and someone around here will eventually give you a chance.”

“What about the Mandalorians?”

You hadn’t figured that part out yet. 

When your brother gave you a knowing look, sardonic and feeding into his own nihilism, you sighed in frustration. 

“Tycho, you have to do something! I’m offering you help —  _ again _ . If the Mandos come by again we can at least show them you’re trying.”

He mulled it over for a bit, properly scolded, and gave a reluctant nod. 

“Good.” You said curtly. “Now, drink your beer -- finish up your pity party and be ready to work tomorrow.”

When you left him to go back downstairs you peered around to make sure no one had forced their way in and hid themselves. A baseball bat was now conveniently placed behind the counter, just in case you encountered that Mandalorian again. He was forgiving the last time you met him, but you weren’t banking on him being that amenable again. 

The phone on the counter rang, breaking through the silence in the shop and you let it ring the second time, you had an automated response with shop hours and specials to try and thin out the actual amounts of calls you actually had to take. After a few moments it kept ringing, and putting on your best customer service voice you answered, “Demeter’s Garden, how can I help you?”

“I’m looking to talk to the owner? Is she there?”

“This is her.” 

“It’s Syala.”

“Oh, uh, hey.” you cringed at how awkward you instantly felt and how plainly it showed in your tone. 

You hadn’t spoken to her for months, and until you had learned the truth about Tycho’s less than stellar commitment to supporting his family you had been pretty angry with her about their divorce. Part of you was still defensive of your brother, but you couldn’t help but wonder what Syala’s side of the story was now. 

“How are you?” you asked. You wanted to ask if she got the money, but it felt wrong to ask and you couldn’t place why. 

“As good as you can be with four kids running around the place,” she said back. 

Four kids. You had three nieces and nephews… where the extra one came from you didn’t know. But that also seemed too invasive to ask about. 

“Sounds --” you were cut off by a series of loud yells on the line, children’s voices playfully shrieking indecipherable words, “sounds like you’ve got your hands full.” 

“Yeah, well, trust me, wrap it up no matter what he says.”

You cringed a little. It was your brother she was talking about. 

Syala seemed to recognize the mistake and quickly began speaking again, “you haven’t seen the kids in a while -- do you wanna come visit?”

“Yes, yes, I would love to,” you said quickly, “I’ll ask Tycho if --”

“They won’t let Tycho in until he pays,” she said, “it's not that I don’t — these aren’t  _ my  _ rules,” she added quickly, “I’m staying here until I get back on my feet but they’re pretty strict about this stuff and I have nowhere else to go.”

“They? Who’s they?” 

“The Mandalorians, I’m at their compound outside of town. They have some extra room for people who need it.”

“Oh.”

You said it with a very forced brightness. It was an awkward pause again as you opened and closed your mouth to try and find something to say. 

She wanted you to go to a biker clubhouse, the very one most people in town locked their doors when they drove by. The Mandalorians had never actually caused more than a few ruckuses in town -- some bar fights, maybe roughed up a few people here and there but they were an unknown entity. No one really knew what they did and when met with uncertainty the town had fallen back on suspicious caution. 

You had no idea what to expect. But judging by the way the last Mandalorian came into your shop and threw your brother around without hesitation -- you were cautious. 

“Will they even let me in?” 

“If I tell them you're coming,” she said certainly. “It’s not prison, we can leave whenever we want and have visitors,” her tone was a little defensive. “There’s just a few rules.”

“Yeah, of course,” you said sheepishly. “Um... I have some stuff to take care of at the shop this weekend, what about Monday?” 

“Monday works great,” she said, “I’ll make you dinner.”

“Sure, sounds good, do you want me to bring anything?”

“Wine. _ Please _ .”

The rest of the afternoon you were trying to convince yourself not to flake out on her. After closing up the shop you went back upstairs and settled in alone in your room. There was a very loud voice in your head saying not to tell Tycho that you were going to visit his ex-wife. But then again what if they held you hostage or something? That was a bit dramatic, and you rolled your eyes at yourself. You had no idea what the mysterious biker gang on the outskirts of the town got up to but you were sure they weren’t kidnappers. Well, you were  _ mostly _ sure. 

The next few days were spent training Tycho, and to your surprise, he seemed motivated. He had the opposite of a green thumb, but he could ring people up and you ended up making a little cheat sheet for him so he could consult it if anyone asked questions and you weren’t available. Mostly you needed help with little things like setting out your displays for outside the stoor, keeping the floors mostly clean, and a bit of heavy lifting. You taught him how to open up the store, keep it running, and close it up if you ever needed to be away. 

The thing about Tycho was he had never been stupid -- foolish maybe but he was never an idiot. He picked stuff up fast and when he wanted to he was really a decent worker. You two still hadn’t talked about what happened after the divorce, all you knew was things started to crumble and he had hit rock bottom. You wondered what Syala would say to you when you went to visit her, and you wondered how much of it to believe.

Aside from the fact that you were walking into a den of what you understood to be big, tough, and mean bikers, it was the confrontation that made you nervous. As if that stress wasn’t enough. You weren’t sure how much you trusted Syala _or Tycho_ \-- all you knew was that they both obviously needed help in one way or another. 

Driving towards the compound you were hyper-aware of how many times you had passed it by, always glancing to see if anything was visible over the tall metal walls that surrounded it. Once on a trip to pick up Caladium bulbs from a few towns away, you had caught a horde of them leaving through opened gates. When you had spared a look inside you didn’t see much -- just faceless figures on motorcycles and the outline of a few nondescript buildings. 

It occurred to you that you had never met anyone who lived inside the walls before. 

After twenty-minutes you turned off the highway towards the high heavy gates. A figure stood by the door, wearing a motorcycle helmet despite the fact they were not riding nor looked like they intended on riding anywhere. You rolled your car window down when they sauntered over. 

“You lost?”

“No, no, I’m here to visit my sister-in-law Syala,” you said.

He asked for your name and then asked for some identification. You handed over your card and he made sure everything was in order he gave it back. 

“Drive slow inside the gates.”

“Okay.”

The helmet nodded and he walked back to the gate pressing in some kind of key code. Despite the whole thing being metal, there was no creaking as the gate began to slide open. You waved a nod before slowly driving through once you could. There were kids  _ everywhere  _ and you slammed on the brakes. You were going slow, to begin with, but the shock of seeing all of them and instinct made you stop. Most of them got out of your way, some others stared and were pulled aside by older kids until you had a clear path. 

There was one large building you could see, the Mythosaur skull sigil you were used to seeing on vests as they rode ahead of you on the highway was painted above the door. Off to one side was another huge building with wide-open garage doors. Inside were neat lines of motorcycles with spaces in between where some Mandalorians were obviously out doing whatever it was they did. The other side was some smaller buildings, scattered and all glinting identically in the sunlight. You imagined there was more you couldn’t see from this entrance road -- one thing you did know was that the compound was huge. There were supposedly Mandalorians all over the world but Nevarro's chapter was one of the largest being the only one within hundreds of miles. 

In the doorway of one of the smaller buildings, you saw Syala waving from the door, signaling for you to pull forward. You noticed her beat-up car was parked right in front and you parked next to hers.

After grabbing the bottle of wine and a box of a few of your easiest to care for plants you had brought as gifts, you exited your car. Syala offered you a tight smile and from the doorway, you saw Nessa and Lysa staring at you expectantly. You could pinpoint the moment they realized their father wasn’t with you and despite the terrible ache in your heart you gave them the best smile you could. Nessa was tall and when did Lysa start losing her baby teeth? 

“Hi,” you said a little breathless. 

“Hey,” Syala offered a tight-lipped smile. 

Nessa came forward boldly to give you a hug, saying hello. Although your hands were full, you wrapped them around her the best you could. 

“You’ve gotten so tall,” you said with a little chuckle. 

The girl preened at the comment, “ yesterday I was four and a half feet.”

“What about today?”

“Still four and a half,” she said with a sigh. “What are those?” she pointed to the plants. 

“Nessa, let her come inside and put her stuff down,” Syala said. 

“I was just asking a question!” Nessa protested. 

Syala’s eyes flashed with impatience but instead of snapping she inhaled deeply and gestured for you to follow her in. You noticed she looked tired and had lost a lot of weight, but the girls looked healthy. Lysa hadn’t spoken to you yet, just clung to her mother’s pants and kept glancing back at you as you followed them inside. 

The little house was not quite what you expected inside. The kitchen was tiny, and the living room doubled as a dining area but you saw a short hallway lead to a couple of bedrooms and a single bathroom. You thought the space was pretty nice if you were honest, but you were a single woman living alone before Tycho came to crash -- even then you thought the space would suit you just fine. The whole place looked like it was kept up nicely, but it was small for a family of four. 

Wait, five. 

When you entered Jido was in a playpen with another little boy you didn’t recognize. The kid was older than Jido, and as far as you knew Syala hadn’t had any secret pregnancies in between the last two kids. Your confusion with the whole situation was just getting more intense. 

“What are they?” You looked down to find Lysa at your knee, lifting herself up as tall as she could to peek into the box of little plants. 

“Oh,” you said gently, “these are some gifts for you guys.” You kneeled down and set the bottle of wine aside, resting the box on the ground so she could see them better. 

Her little fingers poked at the dirt, and gently pinched at some puffy looking leaves of a succulent. Syala came by and grabbed the wine while you explained the names, Nessa came over eventually and tuned into the conversation. You had a small care sheet for them, but it felt nice to have something to bond with them on. Lysa probably had very little memory of who you were, Nessa at least had recognized you -- but you had zero expectations for baby Jido to have any inclination of who you were.

It was strangely bittersweet, it felt good to see them but you were also battling against guilt. You wished you could have brought Tycho with you. 

“Why don’t you guys find a nice spot to put those,” Syala said, “we’ll add watering them to the chores list.” 

The girls excitedly took off with the box, running out of sight in the small house to find the perfect spot. You glanced up and Syala was sitting at her table with two glasses of wine, you took a look at Jido and the unknown toddler with him and decided you could familiarize yourself with him later. 

When you sat down with Syala she presented you with the bag from your shop, the same one you had given the Mandalorian that came looking for Tycho. You stared at it with a frown, and when you looked back up to Syala she sipped at her wine and then smiled a little bit. 

“I can’t take this from you.”

“Syala, he doesn’t have anything to his name right now,” you said. 

“That doesn’t mean I want your pity money.”

“It’s not pity money,” you insisted, “that Mandalorian said you and the kids needed the money. I just wanted to help.”

Syala gave you a dubious look. “And I’m sure the Mando roughing up your brother had nothing to do with that.”

“Obviously I didn’t want him there,” you said quickly, trying to tamp down on your temper, “but Tycho didn’t tell me why anyone was looking for him. He just said he was in trouble, when I found out -- they’re my nieces and nephews, Sy, I want to make sure they're okay too.”

“Then why didn’t you  _ call and ask  _ if we were okay?”

She had a point and it stopped your rising frustration in its tracks. You really could have called, especially after the divorce.

“That’s on me,” you admitted, “I’m sorry. Tycho was just a wreck and he’s my brother.”

“What did he tell you?”

“Just that you took the kids and left.” 

Syala threw back the rest of the wine and poured another glass for herself. She explained the situation, from her side, at least. Tycho got caught up in some trouble again and she told him none of that would fly now that they had three kids. When things didn’t work out he fell apart after the divorce, lost his job, stopped paying the child support and when she confronted him he stopped coming by to see the kids. Your teeth were clenched tightly and you took little sips of your wine to give your mouth something to do other than curse your brother aloud. 

The problem was a lot of it made sense. Tycho’s intentions were always pure but he had a funny way of going about getting what he wanted. The legal trouble was probably for fast money in a pinch, the fallout afterward was due to his own stubborn mentality. 

“I’m sorry.” was all you could say. “We both let you guys down.”

Syala offered the first real smile you had seen of the evening. “Thank you.”

“I mean it, Sy, you can keep the money. I don’t know when he’ll be able to pay you again.” 

As a compromise, she took half out and gave back the rest. It was the easiest path if you were honest with yourself. You followed her into the kitchen and helped out with dinner when you could, catching up and talking about everything you missed. You got to hold your nephew, the mystery toddler looking up at you with big brown eyes as you lifted the other baby up into your arms. 

“Who is this, Syala?” 

“Who?” she peeked over and saw the kid toddling after you as you carried Jido. “Oh, that’s Junior. I watch him sometimes while his dad is out.”

“Gotta say I’m surprised there are so many kids around here,” you admitted. 

“Yeah, I was too,” she laughed, “they’re all pretty good though. Nessa gets into it with some of the bigger ones but,” she shrugged, “it’s just how things are around here.”

Not entirely sure what that meant you just let it roll to the side. Syala explained that someone at a shelter had told her about some empty space at the Covert, and she should try to get in before the word got out about it. That confused you a bit, you had never heard of the Mandalorians doing that kind of thing -- you had assumed Syala had hired that Mando to hunt down Tycho. But if she was living here the whole time then it couldn’t have been just a job. 

“Are you happy here?” you asked her before she called the kids for dinner. 

Syala laughed a little. “Don’t care much for their rules,” she admitted, “but I am grateful. If it weren’t for them I don’t know what we would have done. It’s safe,” she nodded, “until I can get us a place of our own, I feel safe here.”

This satisfied you, and during dinner, it was a little less stressful. A weight felt lifted off your shoulders. The girls were excited about their plants and you told them maybe they could come to the shop sometime. Junior was talkative in his own way but was mostly honed in on the other kids. Jido was definitely his favorite but he would coo at Lysa and Nessa for attention every now and then. A few times you caught those big brown eyes looking up at you and you had to admit he was a very cute kid. Well-behaved and surprisingly gentle with his smaller friend. 

You sat with Syala for a little bit longer to sober up from the wine you two had drunk. It reminded you of when you were younger when her and Tycho’s relationship was brand new and she would sneak you a sip or two of her drinks behind your parents’ backs. 

It was late, the kids were put to bed long ago and the loud yells of the older kids outside had faded away. Sobered up, you were getting ready to make your exit when you heard the low rumble of a motorcycle pulling into the Covert’s gates. A few moments later there was a knock at the door. 

“God, he’s lucky I’m awake,” Syala grumbled as she lifted herself off the couch. When she opened the door she made a comment to the visitor about being quiet and then walked off towards the kid's room. 

The Mandalorian who walked through the door looked exactly like the one that had come to your store but there was no way to be sure. To you the helmets looked mostly the same, and so did the leather vests. Same height and build but that wasn’t enough to gauge it by. The silver visor turned to you when he entered the room fully, and stayed on you. You gave a short little wave and a tight-lipped smile. The gaze on you didn't move and you suddenly felt like you were being very closely scrutinized. 

Syala came back out holding Junior who was sound asleep. She passed him over the Mandalorian and with delicate hands he pulled in into his chest. 

“How was he?” 

The voice made you look at him again, really look and take in the details. It was hard to tell without knowing his face but that voice was familiar and some of the patches stood out to you as well now too. 

“Fine, as usual,” Syala smiled gently. “He’ll be happy to wake up at home though.”

“That’ll make two of us,” with his free hand he reached into his pockets and pulled out a decent wad of cash, handing it over to Syala. “Thank you.” 

It felt a little wrong to watch the exchange so you quietly started getting your own things together to leave. The two spoke for a few moments, and the more you heard the muffled rumble of his voice the more you were certain it was the same man who had been so bold as to very subtly hitting on you while actively hunting for your brother. 

After he walked out of the little house, you moved to say your goodbyes to Syala. They were a little long, hugs and promises to come and visit being passed back and forth, but you were grateful. It gave the man a chance to get back to his own home before you walked out. A couple more hugs and you were walking out the door, closing it behind you gently. You got a few steps towards your car before you stopped abruptly.

Leaning on the driver's side door was the Mandalorian, still holding the sleeping toddler and with his visor turned towards you. 

“Did you bring more money?” 

It felt a little invasive. “No, she gave some back,” you said curtly, but quiet so as not to wake the kid. “You didn’t have to tell her the money was from me.”

A blank stare. 

“Can you please move?”

“He is the one who owes the money,” the man said dryly. “I told you we wouldn’t accept payments from you anymore.”

“He’s going to pay,” you said shortly. “We are working on it.” 

“Is he working?”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” you hissed stepping closer, “not that this is any of your business but he’s working  _ for me _ .”

There was a pause. “Technically,” he said in a very matter-of-fact tone, “you are still paying the child support then.”

Whoever the hell this person was, he was lucky he was holding a sleeping kid. You were close to snapping. “No one will hire him, everyone in town knows he’s in trouble with the Mandos. No one wants to risk it with him,” you said quickly, “I’m just giving him a chance to prove to people that he can get his act together.”

“Can he?”

Your fists clenched and you took a deep breath, “move, please,” you said quietly. 

With a strange sort of [word] in his movement, he pushed off the car and moved only slightly away from your door. You could get in, but not without passing close by to him. If you were honest with yourself, part of you was still intimidated by his presence. He hadn’t tried to hurt you, hell, he didn’t even raise his voice at you once. It was the fact that he knew so much of your family’s business and you had no idea what his name was or what he looked like. You had no idea what he and the rest of the Mandos were really capable of. 

Finding your courage you moved past him, unlocking and opening the door. After climbing in you heard him speak before you closed the door.

“See you around.” 

You slammed the door closed. As calmly as you could you pulled out of your parking spot, turning towards the gate and watching as his shape got smaller in the rearview mirror. When you stopped at the gate, waiting for it to open, he was still standing there watching you. How a man could look so threatening while holding a damn toddler was beyond your understanding but curiosity was at war with annoyance in your mind. You pulled out of the gate a little faster than you should have, taking off back towards your home.

Din watched you leave, making sure the security at the gate let you through without any trouble. This must have been a sanctioned visit, but he knew Tait at the gate liked to give outsiders trouble sometimes. After seeing you drive off, your tires squealing a little bit as you went onto the highway, he set out for his own home.

The last thing he was expecting was to walk into Syala’s home and see you sitting there on the couch. He should have at least said ‘hi’ when he saw you instead of just staring. He was tired after an overnight ride. The bounty was easy enough, but they were farther off than he expected. He had to rush home so Syala wasn’t stuck with Junior for another day. 

Whatever he had walked in on between the two of you hadn’t seemed hostile. After seeing your concern for her and her family that day that you two met, he was glad to see Syala mending a bridge. 

And he was glad to have seen you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is updated first and more often on my tumblr, where you can also ask questions and view headcanons. https://ollypopp.tumblr.com/ come say hello!


	3. Disarm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As your brother drove you towards the small bar on the outskirts of Nevarro, you were relieved to be on the opposite end of town as the Covert. You doubted any Mandalorians would be there and even further doubted that the same one you kept encountering would follow you that far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter riding a motorcycle without a helmet (don’t do that. do not do it. don’t.), alcohol consumption

A week passed and you had yet to tell Tycho that you had gone to the Covert. 

He would want to know what Syala told you – and you would have to find a diplomatic way of explaining that her side of the story was much different than his. There was a chance he would lose what motivation he had found to get things back on track, and you didn’t want to set him back any further. 

And he might try to go to the Covert. That scenario scared you the most. You didn’t want him getting hurt and if he showed up to that place in a fit, demanding to see his ex-wife you were afraid the Mandalorians would react violently. 

So you kept it to yourself and focused on getting him ready to hold the store down on his own more often. 

The amount you gave to your sister-in-law was still a decent hit to your savings, which meant you were going to be going back to your roots. You had plans to bring a small cart of your best pieces to events around the area, handing out business cards and trying to make extra sales. Having someone to stay at the store while you traveled would make everything easier.

You were distracted from your thoughts by the low rumble of a motorcycle. Looking out of the window you saw as the culprit rode by slowly, stopping at a light and turning a silver-visored helmet towards the store. 

From that distance, you could not make out the details of any of the identifying patches, only the large one on the back of the vest. You weren’t sure it was the Mandalorian you knew or some other one, but part of you truly believed it was him. 

The two of you maintained eye-contact ( you had to guess where his eyes were but you chose a spot and glared) until the light changed and he sped off. Instinctively you were pissed, but a small part of you was simply curious.

You were learning more about the mysterious Mandalorians, stuff that was not _all_ bad. There was just part of you that couldn’t let go of how the Mandalorian had come after your brother and attempted to intimidate you when you went to visit Syala. You weren’t convinced that you were safe from him and the rest of the Mandalorians in that compound.

These little visits he made didn’t do much to help their case either. You figured that they would be checking in on Tycho and there was no way for them to keep an eye on him without also watching you. But you had thought maybe they’d come by once a month, every other week at most, but not every day.

You lived above the store, so even if you weren’t working you heard the rumbling through a window, and the day before he had driven by when you got coffee at the shop on the corner. You knew that they didn’t necessarily consider you a threat – but it felt vulnerable to know that they were actively watching you both. 

Tycho came down the steps from the loft just as the pipes were beginning to fade from earshot. “The Mandalorian, again?”

“Just like yesterday,” you grumbled. 

“It’s weird that they’re still checking in like this,” Tycho said. “Wonder how much Syala paid them.”

His tone savored strongly of bitterness and you bit down on your tongue. You knew why, but there was no way you could tell him. With a noncommittal shrug, you tried to let the conversation fizzle out on its own. After he seemed to let it go, you quickly gave him some tasks to handle in the store while you hammered out the details of a fair you were going to bring the cart to that weekend. 

* * *

It had been about a week since he last spoke to you.

He would ask Syala about you when he picked up Junior; wondering if you had called or stopped by again. The last time he was about to inquire, she had interrupted to boldly ask if he wanted your number so he could just interrogate you himself. So he settled for driving by the store to check-in instead of bothering her again. 

If you ever confronted him, he could say he was checking in on Tycho, which was not untrue. The man had proven to be a flight risk before, and it was easier to make sure he was making his payments if he was in town. But most of the time when he drove by he saw you minding your business around the store, or sometimes walking down the street towards the coffee shop. This last time you had just stared at him as he drove by. 

He could just go in and say hi. But without a real reason, he thought you would probably assume he was just there to bother your brother. You already met him with suspicion, he didn’t want to add to your reasons to not trust him.

This was the first day that he hadn’t driven by the store. He had to go the opposite way for his bounty, and when he came back he had to take Junior off of Syala’s hands for some business she had to attend to with the kids. Later that evening she came back in good spirits and was glad to take Junior so Din could make a personal visit. He never made any and she suspected he was going to visit you, but he gave nothing away.

The bar he was headed to was on the other side of Nevarro, so he passed by on the main street. Your shop was dark inside except for some string lights framing the windows, faintly illuminating some of the promotional signs. Above the store was your loft and there were lights on from where he could see in the windows. 

He took off as the stoplight changed. 

When he got to the bar he had to park somewhere out of sight. People were outside the bar smoking and talking, so parking out front wasn’t an option. There was a small alley just next to the bar, so he parked there and checked over his shoulder. No one was around so he removed the leather vest, locking it up in the saddlebag before he lifted the helmet off of his head and took in a breath of the cool night air. 

He didn’t need a mirror to know his hair was all over the place. It was too long again and wearing the helmet all the time meant he didn’t have to bother with it much, but now that he was out in the open with it off he knew he’d have to do something about it soon. Running his fingers through it to at least attempt to remedy the helmet hair, he headed towards the bar. 

When he walked in he was accosted with loud music and the rumble of voices. It was busy which was not ideal but this was the middle point between him and Cara. It was easiest to meet here for both of them. He approached the bar and waited for a bartender to approach since there were a few other people ordering. He scanned the dimly lit room for his friend, and for any other familiar faces that may cause a problem.

There was a growing commotion from a far corner of the seating area, people cheering and throwing expletives around while their voices grew louder in anticipation. Din was not at all surprised to find Cara at the center, arm wrestling some man while his friends and other patrons watched on. It looked like it was close, the man tipping her hand down towards the table. A bartender approached and as Din opened a tab and got his beer there was an explosion of sound from the crowd around the table in the corner. He saw that Cara had pinned the other man’s hand and he made his way over. 

Her opponent slapped some cash onto the table with a raucous laugh and the crowd slowly dispersed except for a single woman who was smiling sweetly at Cara as she made conversation. As he approached, Cara saw him out of the corner of her eye and looked over with a grin. 

Din glanced at the girl and Cara followed his eye line. 

“This is that friend I was telling you about,” she said casually, “I’ll catch up with you later.”

“You promise?”

“Yes,” Cara laughed.

Din sat down with a small chuckle and Cara smirked back with a little shrug. 

“It’s good to see you,” he said. 

“Could have seen me sooner,” she said back.

“It’s been…busy,” he replied before taking a swig of his beer. 

“How’s the kid?”

“Good, I think,” Din said with a small shrug. “He’s alive. He eats and grows and laughs.”

Cara’s smile turned a little sympathetic. “I’m sure he’s doing great.”

Din paused before speaking because he was still getting used to being someone’s sole provider and protector and caretaker. He loved the kid. He’d do anything for him. But he also felt like he was always coming up short as a parent. 

The subject seemed too heavy to talk about right off the bat so he let the moment slide by. 

“What have you been up to?”

“Laying low. Mostly security work – tagging along with Greef for some guild business,” she shrugged. 

“No underground fight clubs?” Din teased.

“Not that I can talk about,” she smiled back. “How’s the Covert?”

“Thriving,” he said with a little smile. “There are more little ones than I’ve ever seen in a tribe.”

“Foundlings?”

“Some of them,” he said, with a nod. “Not all of them are Mando’ade, we’ve been taking in some people who need a place to stay. Sometimes it’s one person, or families.”

“That’s great, Din,” she said. 

He nodded slowly. “I leave Junior with one of the families. A woman – Syala – and her kids.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Cara said with mischief in her eyes, “is she… more than just a babysitter?”

Din scoffed. “No, she’s - she’s a friend.” 

Cara leaned back in her seat shaking her head, “I told you, man, you should have settled down with Omera in Sorgan.”

Din gave a small, wry smile. They’d been over this many times before. 

He had liked Omera, _really_ liked her. It was right after he had picked up Junior, and was unsure of what his future would be. Things had been crazy when he found the kid, and he was always on the run. He had tried to make it work, but things kept getting in the way. Things like his duty to his people, or her duty to her daughter and the rest of her community. It had been an amicable parting, he held nothing against her, and as far as he knew she felt the same. Things just fell apart before they could ever really start.

“I have a – “

“Duty to your people,” Cara finished for him. “I know.” She smiled kindly, “I’m sure there’s someone out there.”

Din scoffed. 

* * *

“Are you sure you don’t wanna come with us?” you asked.

“Yeah,” Tycho said, “tomorrow’s your day off, you’ve been stuck with me in your hair for months…you should go have some fun.”

“You’ve been working hard too, you should get out and have a good time.” you insisted.

“I just wanna keep my head down and get to work,” he said back.

“Okay.” 

Tycho drove you towards the small bar on the outskirts of town. You were relieved to be on the opposite end of town as the Covert. You doubted any Mandalorians would be there and even further doubted that the same one you kept encountering would follow you that far. Your friend Winni was in town for a short amount of time and had only the evening to spend with you, so you jumped at the opportunity. 

The most recent event you had taken your little cart to had been a great success, and you had several more lined up. You were even in the talks of doing some arrangements for a wedding. It was a small victory in the grand scheme of things, there was so much personal and financial business that needed to be sorted out, but you wanted to celebrate. 

Tycho drove you and promised to pick you up when you were ready. He looked tired and you felt bad that he would be up late waiting for your call, but you reminded yourself that you had spent the last few months helping him. It was okay for him to do something nice for you too. 

“Don’t get too crazy,” he said as he pulled into the parking lot. “I don’t have any money for bail.”

“Trust me, _I know you don’t_ ,” you snorted and started climbing out of the car. “I’ll call you later, thank you for driving me!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said before you closed the door. 

You watched as he took off, and kept watching just in case the tell-tale sound of a motorcycle popped out of nowhere. It was a little paranoid, you knew, but it didn’t help that the Mandalorians seemed to be popping up in every aspect of your life now. Checking the parking lot and finding not even a single motorcycle you told yourself to stop overthinking the situation and headed inside the bar. 

It was a little crowded but the rumbling energy of all the people was less overwhelming when you heard your name called out immediately from a table near the center of the room. Winni was waving exuberantly from their chair, and you hastily weaved through people to come up and hug them tightly. 

“Oh, I’ve missed you so much,” you said, “are you sure you can’t stay another night?”

“No,” Winni said apologetically, “I have meetings and presentations. I was gonna leave tonight but I had to see you.”

You gave a regretful groan. “Okay, fine,” you sighed, “let me grab a drink – we have so much to catch up on.”

Slipping away towards the bar, you sidled into a free spot to wait for a bartender to open up. Someone came up next to you, a little close but only because it was a bar and space was pretty limited on a busy night. They still kept as much distance as they could.

“Excuse me,” it was a man’s voice and it sounded a little familiar so you looked over.

Whoever he was you didn’t know him, but you sort of wanted to. He was handsome in a bit of a devil-may-care way: his dark brown hair was messy, his chin and cheeks were scruffy and he had soulful brown eyes. The dark circles under his eyes were noticeable too, and despite him looking a little rough you couldn’t help but stare. 

And he was looking at you like he was expecting you to do or say something. He almost looked a little panicked. You couldn’t figure out why – it was not as if he had bumped into you or spilled anything on you, so you just gave him a small smile.

“That’s okay.” 

He cleared his throat and looked away, so you did the same and waited. You ordered and received your drink, gave him another smile, and then walked away. After you sat down with Winni who leaped full speed ahead into a story, you glanced at the bar to find the man staring at you again. He looked away and you looked back to your friend, only glancing again when he walked towards a table in the corner with a woman. After that, you were so involved with your friend you almost forgot about the entire little situation. 

Din made his way back to the table and glanced back to where you were seated. You weren’t with your brother but you seemed to be completely immersed in what your friend was saying. When he turned back to Cara she had an eyebrow raised and a conspiratorial smile on her lips, looking over to where you were. 

“I really hope that isn’t how you flirt,” she joked.

Not sure how to respond to that he just took a long swig of beer. 

“She’s hot… go talk to her,” she leaned forward, a newfound excitement in her voice at the prospect of being his wing woman. 

Din shook his head, “I don’t think she wants me to.”

“How do you know?”

Din delved into the story, hesitant at first since it was Covert business, but it was Cara. He trusted her. He explained your relation to Syala and how you had always met him with some sort of hostility thus far. She listened intently, but by the time he got to the end she had that sly smile on again and he huffed out a laugh. 

“Have you ever tried just talking to her?” Cara asked as if it was obvious. Because it was, as Syala had even suggested before. “Waiting for her outside her sister’s house and driving by her store isn’t exactly non-threatening,” she laughed. 

“She’s – “ beautiful like he had said that first time he met you, “she is attractive, but I have to ensure Syala gets what she’s owed.”

Cara gave him a nod of understanding. Mixing business and personal lives rarely ended well, especially in his profession. But the urge to turn back and look at you again was tempting, and he swore he could hear your laughter over the rowdy sounds of the bar. His friend dropped the subject, and they moved on. He watched out of the corner of his eye when you walked by to grab another drink, ignoring the smirk on Cara’s face, but carried on with the conversation. 

You were sufficiently buzzed as you ordered another drink, feeling carefree for the first time in months. Before Tycho had moved in with you, your entire life had been keeping the store running in that difficult first year and after that, you had to maintain it all. Then everything, after your brother moved in, had taken up much of your mind – wondering if he’d be okay, if Syala and the kids would be okay. 

You needed this. Winni was full of jokes and exciting stories from their important job in Coruscant and offering you a place to stay if you ever wanted to visit. You lost track of time, your phone set aside, and just engaged in the conversation. 

“That guy in the corner keeps looking over here,” Winni smirked. “You should go talk to him.”

“And what? Bring him to my loft where my brother sleeps on my couch?” you had to laugh at the idea of it. 

“Go to his place?”

“And possibly be murdered? No thanks.”

“You can’t get murdered in your loft?”

“That’s my turf, I have the advantage,” you said seriously but very quickly dissolved into giggles. 

Winni laughed with you, and you did glance over to the man in the corner. Those brown eyes met yours across the room, and then quickly looked away again. 

The rest of the night went by so fast, you took your time with your last drink – not wanting to get too drunk before you went home. After a few more hours Winni checked the time and made a face. They had an early flight, and you had to make sure your brother was awake to pick you up. You both traveled to the bar to close out your tabs, chatting the entire time and even on the way out. By the time their cab arrived and you waved them off, you realized another hour had passed and you still hadn’t called Tycho. 

* * *

“You sure you’re good to ride?”

“Yeah,” Din said confidently. He was sober, if not a little tired. “Gotta closeout. You go…” Din looked over to the woman from before, waiting for Cara by the door, he huffed a small laugh, “just go.”

“We gotta do this again,” she said as we walked away. “Sooner this time, no bull shit!”

“Yeah, okay.”

They shook hands before she headed out, an arm wrapping easily around the other woman as they left the bar. Din closed out his tab and headed out of the bar, the crowd was thinning out little by little as the hour drew closer to the other side of the morning. When he walked out, he made it a few steps before he saw you waiting outside, a phone pressed to your ear. After a moment you cursed under your breath, and pulled it away, biting your lip and tapping away at the screen. 

“Are you okay?” 

He spoke before he could think about it. A greeting would have been better since you jumped and looked at him with wide eyes. There was a moment where you seemed to size him up or seemed to remember that you had seen him earlier at the bar. It slipped his mind that there was no way you would have any idea it was him without the helmet on. To you, he was nothing more than a stranger. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said with a small smile. “Just waiting on…just waiting.”

“Do you need a ride?” 

You looked him over. He was handsome but you weren’t getting a ride with a stranger, even slightly tipsy you knew that was a bad idea.

“Oh, um,” you said, trying to be as polite as possible, “no, thank you.”

Din nodded once and walked past you towards the alley. He heard you mutter Tycho’s name under your breath as you texted and then called again. Around the corner his bike was just as he left it, he slipped on his helmet and took out the leather vest lifting it onto his shoulders. He waited then, watching for Tycho to pull into the parking lot to get you. Just as he was going to turn around and ask you again he saw you pass by the alley, starting to walk home. 

He climbed onto the bike and started it up, cringing a little at the loud noise echoing against the walls. Slowly he pulled out of the alley and caught up to you a few yards away. 

“You sure you don’t want a ride?” 

You stopped in your tracks and slowly turned to look at him. A little bit inebriated, it took you a moment to piece the clues together. That handsome man at the bar had looked at you like he knew you already, and of course, he did. You just had not realized it until now. _So that’s what he looked like underneath that helmet._

“That was –” you started and then stopped. “No. I can walk. Thank you.”

You started walking away, and the bike very slowly started following you. It was a little ridiculous. For every step you took the bike coasted along a few paces behind. Eventually, you lost your patience with the man and turned back to him, arms folded over your chest. 

“Okay, what the hell is this about?”

Din pulled the bike closer to the curb, out of the way of any passing cars, and killed the engine. “It’s a long walk.”

“No, I mean what is _all_ of this?” you asked again. “I know my brother owes money, I know he lives with me and you have to keep an eye on him but why are you following _me_?” He said nothing in response so you asked more plainly, “did you follow me here?” 

There was a slow shake of the helmet. “I was meeting a friend.” 

“And you just happened to be at the same bar as me?” 

“The same way you happened to be at the Covert last week. It had nothing to do with you.” 

Satisfied with the answer you stared at the emotionless visor, and asked the questions that had been ruminating, making you unable to believe that he and his brothers had taken Syala in out of the goodness of their hearts. 

“Is Syala paying you?”

“No.”

“So what do you get out of all of this?” 

There was a pause, “Syala needed help, and we were able to provide it.” 

“Is that what you guys are? Big bad biker gang, that helps those in need?”

“It’s part of our creed.”

You bit down on your lip and swallowed hard. “Are you going to hurt my brother?”

“Depends. If he does anything to hurt Syala and the kids… then yes.” 

“He would never do that,” you insisted. 

“Then I won’t have to.”

“Are you…seeing her? Syala?”

“No.” After a moment he said, “your store is on the way. Let me give you a ride.”

“If I say no are you just gonna follow me?”

“Probably.”

You thought of asking why, but you really didn’t want to walk all the way home. Tycho still hadn’t answered your calls or texts, and you technically did know this Mandalorian.

“Fine.”

Slinging your bag higher on your shoulder you walked over to the rumbling motorcycle. He shifted his position a little and you awkwardly climbed on behind him. There was no other helmet to offer you, and he couldn’t take his off now that he had on the cut, so he told you to hold on tight. He would just ride very, very, very carefully. He had done it before with Junior on the bike, he could get you to your store safe if he just gave the same care. 

You wrapped your arms around him, the smell of the leather vest flooding your senses before the bike started to move. He had a solid body from what little you could feel underneath the layers, he felt sturdy and warm. That heat was welcome when the ride got a little chilly. The wind whipped at your skin and hair, but you had to admit it was exciting. He didn’t go too fast and took care to leave room between other vehicles. You wondered if anyone would recognize you clinging tight to a Mandalorian on his bike at such an odd hour of the night.

When you pulled up to the store and the lights were on inside your loft above, you figured Tycho had passed out. 

Climbing off with slightly shaky legs you turned back to the Mandalorian and smiled a little. “Thank you.” 

He nodded. 

“What’s your name?”

“What?”

“You know my name, where I live and work – you even know all of my family’s dirty laundry…” you said, “the least you could give me is your name.”

Technically he’s not allowed to tell you while he’s wearing the vest and helmet but he finds himself saying, “It’s… it’s Din.” 

“Nice to meet you, Din.” you bit your lip. “Next time you drive by why don’t you just come in and say hello. It’s a lot less weird.”

His small chuckle was muffled so much by the helmet you almost didn’t hear it. “Okay.”

Awkwardly you turned and headed towards the store. Pulling out your keys you unlocked and headed in. The headlight on the motorcycle lit your way through the glass windows as you locked it behind you and went up the stairs. Tycho was fast asleep on the couch, his phone in his lap with notifications of all your missed calls and messages lighting up the screen. He must have been really tired to sleep through them all. 

Since you didn’t hear the motorcycle take off you went to the window to find Din waiting there in the same spot. His helmet was turned upwards towards the window when you peeked your head out and he gave a little salute. 

You watched as he pulled away, and kept watching until the sound of the pipes disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! If you want you can follow me on tumblr where I post & update more regularly: ollypopp.tumblr.com


	4. Little Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Almost two months ago he had barged in and as an attempt to get a rise out of you, to get you to reveal something, he had made a comment about how beautiful you were. He hadn’t been lying then but it was easier to say something like that when it was part of the job he was sent to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: Language, threats, a tiny-tiny bit of violence.

When you arrived at the Covert, the Mandalorian standing guard just nodded at you and opened up the gate. This was your second trip this week, and you weren’t entirely sure if it was the same one from before but you were expected this time. The kids inside all moved out of the way until your car passed and then went back to running around – screaming and laughing. 

You caught sight of Nessa who recognized your car and gave an exuberant wave in your direction before she went back to playing. You parked and made your way to Syala’s open door, knocking lightly on the door jam and entering to find Lysa sitting with some schoolwork – her little legs were kicking as she sat in the chair. You gave her a small kiss on the head, you moved towards the kitchen to drop off some food you had picked up. 

Tycho thought you were taking trips to see some friends last week. Earlier that week he had thought you were going to meet with a couple about some arrangements for their wedding and today he thought you were picking up rare plants. Instead, you had been letting Nessa and Lysa show you the best spots around the Covert to play hide and seek, reading stories to Jido, or laughing about the old days with Syala over a glass of wine. 

The two of you were cooking together, chatting away but kept looking towards the door. 

You had run into Din a few times since that night at the bar. It was usually very late and he was just picking up Junior for the night. There had only been a little conversation between the two of you but the tone of those interactions had changed. 

Where there had been suspicion on your side was now only curiosity; seeing his face and knowing his name made him less scary and more intriguing. You noticed now that when you weren’t baring your teeth at him right off the bat, he seemed to be just a little unsure of how to handle that. 

“You don’t have Junior with you today?” you asked as casually as you could. 

“No,” Syala said, “his dad is home for a little while.”

“That must be nice, to get a little break.” You responded brightly, trying to mask the slight disappointment you felt. 

“The kid practically babysits Jido for me, I really don’t mind having him around,” she said. “You know his dad is always asking me about you,” there was a mischievous glint to her eye as she chopped up some vegetables.

“Oh – “ you were surprised to hear that, “he’s probably just…trying to keep an eye on Tycho.”

“Trust me,” Syala said, “they don’t need you to get to Tycho.”

Thankfully Nessa ran into the kitchen for a glass of water and Syala had to break away from teasing to remind her daughter not to run in the house. Nessa was too busy gulping down as much water as she could in as little time as possible and Syala had to shift to insisting she slow down. Then there was a sudden loud commotion as a large booming voice filled the entire front room. It made you jump and Nessa grinned and bolted out of the room again. 

“Come on…one more!” 

You followed Syala to the front room to find the doorway almost entirely blocked by a solid figure. Not Din, but another Mandalorian; tall and broad but kneeling in front of Lysa who had abandoned her school work. His helmet was not shiny like Din’s, instead, it was dark blue with some accents of a lighter teal with a darkened visor. His patches on his worn leather vest were also different, except the one on the back, and you saw “Heavy Infantry” spelled out on one of them. 

Lysa was punching at his massive hands, gloved but spread wide open, and she used all of her little might. The man showed her how to hold her fist and to dig her small pointy knuckles for maximum damage. 

“Paz, please,” Syala said with a slight laugh, “you’ve already got Nessa challenging all the older kids – don’t give Lysa any ideas.”

“And how many times have you lost?” His head turned to ask the oldest girl.

“Only twice,” Nessa said smugly.

“Keep practicing and you will be undefeated.” 

“Paz!”

“If your mother says it’s okay.” He added quickly. 

It was too late. You could tell from the smile on Nessa’s face she was ready to wrestle every kid her size and beyond until she was some kind of champion amongst them. You had to laugh at the way the Mandalorian, Paz, seemed to sheepishly get to his feet at Syala’s pointed look. His attention turned towards you and you offered him a small smile and a little wave. 

“You must be the sister-in-law.”

You nodded before properly introducing yourself, holding out a hand to shake. He didn’t even look at it, just left you standing there foolishly with a handout.

“I saw you came two days ago, and now you’re here again.” His tone was not welcoming, and outright combative. Even that simple sentence sounded like some kind of accusation.

“Is that a problem?” you asked with forced politeness and a tight smile. 

Part of you was still scared of the Mandos, especially being greeted by this one with so much hostility. But you had not learned your lesson apparently and were ready to go toe to toe with yet another Mandalorian if it came down to it. Syala sensed this immediately.

“Obviously not,” Syala cut in, her tone even, “ _since I invited you here_ , right, Paz?” 

All he gave in response to that was an almost inaudible grunt. 

The kids were still around but you guessed that if they weren’t he would have some choice words to say to you – and the only reason you could think of that would make him so unwelcoming was your brother. But Tycho was also the kids’ father, and whatever manners this Mando had seemed to keep him from bringing him up around the little ones.

Feeling the tense air between all the adults in the room, Nessa blurted out, “auntie! You haven’t checked on our plants yet!”

“You’re right,” you said before looking away from the Mandalorian. You turned to her, “why don’t you two show me?”

Nessa and Lysa quickly exited the room, suspecting some ‘grown-up talk’ was going to happen, and dragged you along with them. You barely made it out of the room before the burly Mandalorian began speaking in a hushed tone to Syala. 

Nessa and Lysa had found a great spot in their shared room on the windowsill for their new plants. They got more than enough light and had a small tray underneath to catch any excess water. You inspected the plants and they seemed to be doing just fine, if not a tad bit overwatered. You gave the two girls all the best tips you could – writing them down on a piece of paper so they could refer back to it. 

“When they grow a little more I’ll bring you some new pots to put them in,” you promised. 

“How big will they get?” Lysa asked excitedly.

“These ones can get really big if you take good care of them,” you said.

“As big as a tree?” Nessa inquired. 

“Not quite that big,” you laughed, “to get a big one like that you have to have patience and know how to keep them healthy.”

You made a bargain with the girls: if they could get the plants you had already given them to grow enough you would see about finding them some really big ones. They excitedly discussed what kinds they would want but over their conversation you heard voices get a little louder in the other room. 

You peered out of the door into the hallway and heard an argument – two male voices. The girls were distracted so you slipped away to find not one but two Mandalorians in Syala’s living room, and it looked like they were a few moments away from brawling. 

You recognized Din easily and Syala looked to you with a slight roll of her eyes but seemed unsure of what to do. The two men were speaking in a language you didn’t understand. Din was shorter and of smaller stature but he didn’t seem intimidated in the least, and you thought Paz might be trying to make himself even larger if that were even possible. It was a lot of testosterone and posturing and you had no idea what sparked it but before you could even think to ask there was a sudden weight on your leg. 

Leaning against your shin and grabbing at the fabric of your pants was Junior, big brown eyes turned up to you inquisitively. 

“Hi,” you said, kneeling down to be at a better level. “Do you know what this is all about, little one?”

He babbled at you and his face brightened with a huge smile. 

“Yeah, me neither.” 

Paz murmured something under his breath which made Din curse and then there was the short sound of scuffling before Syala shouted.

“Okay, out – not around the kids,” she insisted. 

When you looked up from Junior, Din had Paz’s leather vest gripped in his gloved hands and Paz was holding on to the edge of Din’s helmet like he was going to pull it off. 

“Sy – “ Paz began in protest.

“Out.” She cut him off, “we’ll talk later.” 

Paz stormed out after that and Din looked back to Syala. “I apologize.” 

“It’s fine,” she waved him away with a sigh. 

“I’ll be right back for the kid,” he said and then followed after Paz.

“What was all that about?” You asked once he had gone. 

“It’s…” Syala trailed off, “it’s nothing. Those two butt heads a lot, this is pretty normal.” 

“Oh,” you nodded, “okay.” 

“I guess I do have Junior tonight,” Syala said in a happy tone, obviously trying to change the subject, “let’s see if Jido is awake from his nap for a little play date.” 

* * *

Din followed after Paz’s large strides towards the warehouse where the bikes were parked. Luckily not many others were in there and the kids outside were all too busy yelling and playing to pay attention to them. Paz was climbing onto his bike, getting ready to take a ride and cool off. Din approached before he could turn the key and placed his hand over it to keep him from doing so. Paz tried to pull his hand off but he stubbornly held on. 

“If you threaten her again – “ Din started.

“How can you trust her when she lied to your face,” Paz growled. “She chooses to protect the di’kut. And you welcome her within our gates? In Syala’s home?”

“She is her family – Syala asked that she be welcomed here,” Din said. 

“Then make her useful, send her back with a message for that – “

“Our message was made clear,” Din retorted. “We push too hard and he’ll scatter again. That’ll make things worse for Syala!”

Paz didn’t respond so Din pulled his hand away and stepped aside so he could leave if he wanted to. His point was made, and any further arguing about it would be talking in circles. Din waited for Paz to retort or to challenge him again. He was ready.

Instead, the other Mandalorian spoke. “Is there something between you two?”

Din paused, thinking of you and how you had smiled at him at the bar. “What?”

“Syala,” Paz snapped. “Are you and her –” 

“No,” Din interjected before he could finish. “She’s burc’ya and so is the sister-in-law.” There was a heavy moment, “she isn’t a threat.”

Paz nodded his head once. Irritation still radiated off of him, but he had nothing to say. 

Satisfied, Din turned and started making his way back when he heard the bike startup. He couldn’t zoom out of the compound because of all the kids but once the gates opened up, Din heard the pipes as he tore off down the highway. 

When he made it back to the house you were seated on the floor with both Jido and Junior, the younger boy was learning to get his feet underneath him while watching Junior as an example. Junior’s little hand gripped one of yours tight and Jido was using your free arm for leverage to try and pull himself up. 

Syala came out again seeing him, “how’s your shoulder?” 

“It’s fine,” he nodded. “The healer says I should give it another week.”

“Were you hurt?” You asked looking up at him. 

“It was nothing.”

“He was stabbed,” Syala retorted. 

“Not very deeply,” Din said back. “Didn’t hit anything.” 

“Oh,” was all you could say in response. Junior toppled over while trying to climb onto your lap and you caught him with one arm saying, “whoops! Careful, buddy.” 

Syala laughed and then turned to Din. “Go get changed and join us for dinner, it’ll be done soon.”

“You don’t have to –”

“Go. Bathroom is empty, you can take all that off.”

He silently walked away and you waited until the door was closed to whisper to Syala.

“I saw him without the helmet the other day,” you told her, and when she gave you an interested look you said, “I’ll explain later – why does he have to hide away to take it off?”

“Rules.” Syala shrugged. “Can’t wear the vest without the helmet on, can’t be seen taking it all off.”

“Why?”

“You’ll have to ask him.” She said, “watch them while I set the table, will you?”

“Sure.”

It was only a few moments later and Din returned, vest and helmet removed. He stood in the middle of the room looking uncertain of what to do now that he was helmetless.

“I’m sure Syala won’t mind if you sit somewhere,” you said with a teasing smile.

He cleared his throat and moved towards the couch, setting his things on one side and sitting on the other. You decided not to tease him any further, instead just shooting him a smile before turning back to the boys who were essentially using you as a jungle gym. 

You felt Junior putting one of your fingers in his mouth, and you delicately tried to pull away but before you could he chomped down, a few little teeth digging into your skin. It didn’t hurt much, but the surprise was enough to make you yelp. 

“Hey,” Din was quickly off the couch to kneel next to you. He scooped Junior up swiftly, grunting a little at the movement on his injured shoulder. “We talked about that, no biting.” He looked at you, “sorry.”

“That’s okay,” you said, inspecting your finger. There were little indents of tiny teeth and it was covered in baby drool but otherwise, it was fine. To his credit, Junior was looking a little watery-eyed, maybe due to the loud noise you had made and Din running over to grab him so abruptly. “You’ve got some mean little chompers, bud,” you reached out to run a finger over the soft skin of his cheek. 

“One of these days someone is gonna bite him back,” Din grumbled, “and then what will you do, ad’ika, hm?” He spoke the last part to Junior.

“What does that mean?” you asked.

Din looked at you again, that same uncertainty seeming to rise up again. “It’s a term of endearment for children.”

You smiled and then turned your attention back to Jido. “Is everything okay? I thought you were going to brawl it out here in the house.”

His expression tightened a little bit. “It’s fine.”

“He… doesn’t want me here, does he? Because of Tycho.” You said.

Din wasn’t looking at you anymore, he was watching Junior with a slightly furrowed brow. “He doesn’t trust you.”

There wasn’t much you could say to that except, “he’s never met me.”

“No,” Din said seriously. “But … “ he heaved a sigh and then looked over his shoulder, making sure Syala wasn’t coming, “Tycho’s been involved with some dangerous people. He’s just looking out for her and the kids.”

You nodded, wanting to ask about who exactly your brother had been associating with, but Syala called everyone to dinner. 

You didn’t get up right away and Din was looking at you now, “should I stop coming around?”

“No,” Din said quickly. Too quickly. He felt his insides churn at how intensely he had said it. “He won’t bother you again.” There was a pause, “Syala likes when you visit.”

You nodded and opened your mouth to speak again but –

“Guys,” Syala said, more insistently, and breaking through a tension you hadn’t really realized was there until she interrupted, “come on before it gets cold.”

There was a lot more to ask him, but right now wasn’t the time.

* * *

You got to sleep in the next day, and when you finally made your way down into the store Tycho was helping a customer carry a couple of large ficuses into his car. Sitting behind the counter you started going over the earnings for the week, wondering how much to give to Tycho. All of it was going towards the child-support, but it was technically his earnings for the week. He had worked hard for it. Things were lean for the month, but the extra sales you had made from hopping around with the cart were keeping you above water for now and the amount you gave him at least would cover this month and begin to chip away at what he owed.

As you sorted through the finances you wondered about what Din had told you and what Tycho had not. What dangerous people had he been working with? You knew he had gotten into some small-time trouble, but the way that Mandalorian, Paz, had acted made you concerned that there was something far worse going on. 

It felt like you had no idea who your brother really was. But no matter how badly you wanted to confront Tycho, it would cause too many problems. He couldn’t know you were going to visit his family.

You sent him off a little later with some cash to transfer his payment to Syala and to pick up lunch for the two of you. Unable to stop thinking about what the hell was going on you moved to rearrange some displays in the windows. The store was empty and you had been meaning to do it, might as well keep yourself busy. 

You were in the middle of a new arrangement when the bells above the door jingled to signal an entrance. Turning with a chipper greeting, you saw that in the doorway was none other than your Mandalorian friend. 

Helmetless and with Junior hoisted onto his hip, his hair was a little more tame, cut a little shorter and his face only had a hint of scruff to it. Wearing a brown jacket and some dark jeans, you couldn’t help but think that he looked good. Cleaned up and less disheveled than he had been last time you saw him.

“What are you two doing out here?” you said with a smile and came towards them.

“We were in town and you – uh, you said I should come in and say hello,” Din offered, just a little bashful.

“Yeah,” you laughed a little, “I did.” There was an almost uncomfortable pause as neither of you spoke and so you cleared your throat, “what are you two up to today?” 

“The place down the street makes his favorite bone broth,” Din told you, and now that you looked Junior had a sippy cup full of it. That was… strange but the kid seemed more than happy with it so you didn’t make a comment. “And the Razor Crest is in the shop.” 

“The Razor Crest?” You asked.

“The bike.”

“You named the bike?”

“Yes,” he said dryly. 

“That’s…that’s adorable, honestly,” you teased with a laugh.

He gave a small scoffing laugh in response and looked around the store. “Where is your brother?”

Your smile fell a little. “He’s on his lunch break,” you said, “is that why you’re here?” 

His gaze came back to you then and you watched his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed before saying, “no.” He opened his mouth to say something but Junior was now wiggling to get out of his grasp and reach for a vine of ivy. “Don’t touch,” he said gently.

“He’s just curious,” you said and reached out to rub a thumb over one of the leaves, “he can touch.”

Following your example, he touched the leaves but didn’t pull. The next few minutes were spent showing them around the shop so Junior could touch the plants or smell a flower. Din was quiet, unsure of what to say. Almost two months ago he had barged in and as an attempt to get a rise out of you, to get you to reveal something, he had made a comment about how beautiful you were. He hadn’t been lying then but it was easier to say something like that when it was part of the job he was sent to do. 

Now that you were here quietly leading a conversation with Junior and not snapping at him he almost wasn’t sure how he had found the courage to say it before. You were just as beautiful, maybe more so with such a warm and open smile on your face for the kid – he just knew how to handle aggression better and this was…soft.

You lifted a light purple flower up to Din’s nose to smell. He looked at you like you had grown another head, and you were obviously trying to hold back a smile. “It’s a flower, smelling it is not gonna kill you.”

He leaned in a little, it smelled fresh and delicate. 

“And?”

“It’s…nice.”

Pulling it away you pressed it towards Junior who pressed his face all the way into it, which made you laugh before wiping his face off gently. 

The door opened and in strolled Tycho yelling your name, bags of food in hand for you both. You felt yourself tense up a little and could see from the way Din’s shoulders lifted that he also was on alert. Din was uncertain how much you had told your brother, but he was about to find out.

Tycho turned and took in the scene and smiled brightly, blissfully unaware of the reality of the situation. Before him stood his tracker, smelling flowers and holding a baby, and Tycho had no way of knowing that. Somehow, though, you were scared that he would know somehow and waited with held breath for the shoe to drop. 

“Sorry, sir,” Tycho said in his best customer service voice, “didn’t realize we had a customer.”

You released the air from your lungs gently and looked to Din, who simply raised an eyebrow at you. 

“It’s fine,” Din said. “We should get going anyway.” 

“Oh, yeah,” you nodded, “of course, I’ll um… I’ll see you both another time.” 

Din turned with Junior, the baby still holding a plucked gardenia in his tiny hand. The bells jingled as he left and when he passed by you in the window there was a hint of a smile when he looked at you. Your stomach suddenly had a fluttery feeling, and your heartbeat seemed to stand out to you suddenly. 

Your brother called your name, frowning as he asked, “who was that?”

You suddenly felt like you couldn’t think. Flustered before and now worried, you knew there was some unspoken agreement. Tycho couldn’t know who Din was. But what excuse could you give him? Another lie?

“He’s the guy I met, the one who gave me a ride home from the bar,” you said quickly. 

“You didn’t say he had a kid,” Tycho replied, “is he married?”

“I don’t think so,” you said, coming up to grab your lunch. 

Tycho gave you a serious look. “Don’t take rides from strangers anymore, I mean it.”

You looked at him, eyebrows raised. “Don’t tell me what to do, Tycho. He’s fine. He’s actually _nice_. And you were the one who fell asleep when you were supposed to pick me up, so don’t tell me who I should be getting rides from.”

“Okay, okay,” he held up his hands in surrender, and thankfully dropped the subject. 

You weren’t sure how long you could keep all these secrets from him, but if it meant Din could come around without the helmet more often…you were willing to keep it to yourself for a little longer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a translations:  
> di’kut - idiot  
> burc’ya - a friend  
> ad’ika -- little one, son, daughter, of any age
> 
> Thank you for reading! If you want you can follow me on tumblr: ollypopp.tumblr.com


	5. Kiss With a Fist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were being bold, and the drinks were starting to settle in. Any embarrassment or shame went straight out the window and you were alone with a Mandalorian in your loft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for this chapter: language, violence, alcohol consumption, unwanted advances from a man.

You kept swiping left. There was no real reason to have the dating app open – you rarely ever checked it and even when you did nothing consequential came out of it. But you kept swiping left. 

_Maybe Din’s picture will pop up,_ you found yourself thinking it and immediately felt your stomach drop. Your whole body seemed to react to it with nerves. You swept left again. 

The app was only open out of boredom. You had been sitting in the car for a little over an hour, and all other apps had been scrolled through. The air in the car was a little stuffy, and music played softly but you still felt restless and the constant dissatisfaction with every face you saw on the app wasn’t helping. You were getting a little impatient. 

A knock at the window made you jump and you looked over to see Tycho trying to open the door. You unlocked it and let him in – he had some paperwork and some folded fabric in hand. His face was lit up in a smile, he was ecstatic and vibrating with energy. 

“So?” you asked, putting your phone aside. “When do you start?”

“Next week,” Tycho said, “pay isn’t great – but I get tips! And it has benefits – thank God they gave me a chance.” 

You couldn’t help but match his excitement. When Tycho smiled he looked almost like he had when you were kids. An exuberant boy with such a wide-open grin. It was infectious. 

“I knew someone would.”

“I just wish I could tell Sy,” he said. “I wanna let her know I’m trying.”

Your smile faltered a little, the good feelings you had before were dampened. Clearing your throat you put your seatbelt on and turned to check behind you before you backed out of your parking spot in front of the restaurant where Tycho had recently been hired. It was a small diner on the edge of town, someplace for weary travelers to get some food before heading onto the open road. 

You knew the owner and had put in a good word. 

Tycho kept talking at you and you did your best to respond, to not give away the fact that you were all of the sudden riddled with guilt. You decided to change the subject a little. 

“Much better than other jobs you’ve had, right? Something more _official_?” 

“Definitely,” Tycho said. “Way better than the factory too.”

Well. That didn’t yield results as you wanted. No matter how you worded a question he didn’t seem to give you the answer you wanted. What you wanted to know was what kind of trouble had he been in before he stumbled onto your doorstep. What did he do that was so terrible that Syala felt it was safer to leave him and take the kids? Tycho offered nothing and you couldn’t find it in you to bring it up and ruin his good mood by asking a more direct question. This was the first bit of good news he had in months. 

“I’m excited for you,” you told him, “maybe soon I can have my loft back to myself. Having you on the couch is really ruining my love life.” You laughed at the groan he gave, not wanting to consider the thought of you having a date over. 

“Soon enough,” he said after the laughter had passed. “And after I’m back on track with Sy I’ll pay you back,” he said seriously, “ _I promise_.”

You looked over for a second to see his earnest face before turning back to the road. “Don’t worry about that,” you told him, “just pay your ex-wife and get your ass off my couch.” 

It was his turn to laugh. When you two made it back to the store he was extra helpful, knowing that you had grown accustomed to having a helping hand around the store. He helped you with some heavy-lifting for some large display pieces and kept the cashier manned while you ran out to make a deposit. It was nice, and this was the Tycho you knew and loved – full of energy and charm and eager to help. The same one who had been so excited to be a dad and cried when he saw Syala for the first time on their wedding day. 

It was infectious and it lasted the rest of the week. To celebrate his new job, Tycho had made plans with some friends who lived in Batuu and you loaned him the car to make the drive out there for the weekend. You were happy to have a couple of nights to yourself, even if you were spending one of them out on the town. 

Some of the other shop owners on the street got together once a month for drinks. You rarely got to go since you were usually dead tired from running the shop alone or too busy doing a custom arrangement for something but you were finally available to join. Getting dolled up and going out with some friends sounded great, especially knowing you could come home and relax in the loft alone for a night. 

You rode along with the man who owned the coffee shop on the corner, Arlan, someone who never failed to make you laugh. You went to his shop almost every day. His boyfriend loved your shop so you would occasionally drop by with a small gift for him and in return would get a free lunch, maybe coffee for the week if the plant was pricey enough. It was nice to spend some time outside of either of your workplaces together.

During the ride, you felt a buzz in your pocket. It was another notification from that dating app but you didn’t have any inclination to check it now. You were about to be out with friends, and regardless of who it was that had messaged you they would not have been who you wanted.

* * *

“Are you sure that shoulder is healed up?” Greef was looking at him skeptically. “Take your time to heal, son, I’ll have work for you when you’re ready to come back.”

“It’s fine,” he assured him. “The healer said I could return to hunting.”

“How about easy bounties?” Greef countered. “Trust-fund bail jumpers and dusty old smugglers.”

“Just give me what pays the highest,” he said, “I can handle it.”

Din’s shoulder was pretty much healed, and he didn’t need to be babied. It was a clean-edged knife, thin and sharp, but it had not gone deep nor did it hit anything serious. The small scuffle with Paz paired with forgetting not to use his left arm to carry Junior around had meant some extra bleeding but he had endured worse and the pain was hardly noticeable now. 

Greef laughed, “take it easy,” he insisted, “you’re the best, but if you don’t take time to heal you’re gonna be heading towards early retirement.” 

Din sighed and said, “fine…give me a smuggler.” 

A large group made a ruckus walking through the door. On instinct Din looked back towards it, finding only a group of locals talking and laughing. No one was questionable looking, in fact he recognized one of them as the owner of the small restaurant on the main street and did a double-take when he saw you trailing along with the group.

You seemed to be having a good time with them, laughing and immersed in the conversations. Someone grabbed a table big enough to fit the group and you claimed a chair with a discarded coat before you grabbed your purse and headed towards the bathroom. It took you by his and Greef’s table but you didn’t see him when you passed. 

Greef was going on about a story of his time as a bounty hunter before he was head of the guild. It had a point, Din was sure, probably something about making sure he kept himself in good health to do the best work he could. But he was only half-listening as he glanced towards the bathroom door you had disappeared behind.

His companion was coming to the end of his tale when you walked back through the bathroom door. You made it a few steps back into the bar until you were right next to the table and stopped in your tracks when you noticed him. A grin lit up your face and he felt his own lips pull into a smile. 

“I thought you said you weren’t following me,” you teased him. 

“I’m not,” he said back, “I got here first. Are you following me?”

Your eyebrows rose and you laughed a little in surprise.“You figured me out,” you said. You looked like you were about to say something, but your eyes flicked over to Greef and then back to him. He could tell you had reconsidered what you were originally going to say. “Come by before you leave,” you said, “we can…catch up.”

“Yeah,” he breathed, “sure.” 

Greef was barely able to control his outburst of questions before you walked far enough away that you wouldn’t hear. Without revealing too much, Din explained to you two had met because of some business for the Mandalorians. Personal business. The older man did not seem convinced that he was getting the full story, but let Din off the hook for answers with a sly smile. 

There was still more business to be discussed and Greef was a businessman before he was anything else. A lot was happening outside of Nevarro’s borders. Some rumors were floating around that some new laws were up for a vote in the Republic senate. Laws that could have changed the bounty hunting field drastically and Din needed that information to bring back to other hunters at the Covert. 

Even with the serious conversation happening, he couldn’t help but look over to your table, every once in a while. He never quite caught your eye but he looked anyway. Occasionally he barely heard your laugh carry over the sounds of the bar, and he would glance to see you looking so open and carefree. You finally caught him when you went up to the bar for another drink and gave him a little wave.

Back at the table with your friends, you were not faring much better in keeping your eyes off of him. You were paying attention to your friends and having a good time, but when a lull in conversation happened your eyes slid over to the booth he was at. Hoping you would catch him looking. 

As the hours passed more and more of your group started to disperse. Early store openings, familial obligations, and the like were brought up before people made their exits for the night.

Eventually, it was just you and Arlan, the two of you saw each other a lot but it was nice to not be worried about customers while you talked. Normally you would be five minutes into a conversation when someone would come up to his counter needing extra soy milk or something like that. 

“One more drink, on me,” you said with a smile.

“Only one?” Arlan laughed.

You moved over to the bar and waited. Holding off for as long as you could, you looked over to Din’s booth only to find someone instantly sliding into the empty spot next to you and blocking your view. You felt a bit awkward now as you gaped at a stranger. He was tall and lean with beady eyes, tawny hair slicked back neatly. He was smiling at you. Out of politeness, you smiled back and then turned back to the bar, waiting for a bartender to come your way. 

“How’re you doing tonight?” 

You looked over to see if the man was talking to you, and sure enough, he was still looking at you.

“Fine, thanks,” you said back. “How are you?”

“Good,” he nodded. 

Like some kind of saving grace the bartender came over and asked for your order before he could say anything else. You ordered your drink but before you could add Arlan’s order into the mix you were interrupted. 

“You can add that one to my tab,” said the man next to you.

You were taken aback, but not enough to keep your mouth shut. 

“Please don’t.” You said it to the bartender with an arched brow before turning back to him. “I’ve got it, thank you,” you smiled a little, then turned to the bartender again, “can I also get –” 

“Come on, it’s one drink,” he interrupted you again, “you don’t like free drinks?”

“No, thank you,” was all you said back to him. 

“I’ll come back with your drink,” the bartender moved away to begin making your drink for you. Probably trying to escape the awkward interaction. 

“What is it?” The man asked and then looked over to the table you had left Arlan at. “Are you here with your boyfriend?”

“Nope,” you responded curtly. Maybe you should just stop responding, he might get the hint.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

You just shook your head.

“So, why can’t I buy you a drink?”

“Because I said no!” You said it loudly. Maybe a little bit too loudly. It drew some attention and you were instantly embarrassed. Which only made you more upset. How many more fucking times would you have to say it? “You know what, I don’t need the drink, thank you” you called out to the bartender, reaching into your bag for some cash. 

You would just invite Arlan back to your place. You had some beers stocked in your fridge and it would be better than dealing with this kind of guy all night. You knew his type – persistent and just polite enough that you came out looking like the bad guy in the end. This was supposed to be a night off and you didn’t want it ruined by some asshole testing the law of large numbers. 

“Calm down,” he did his best to seem soothing, but it just made your body react. 

Heat came along with the feeling of slight embarrassment at all the attention on you and when he told you to ‘calm down’ it seemed to have the opposite effect. You were just pissed. He was humiliating you with that smug smile on his face, making you seem like the one who was out of line for losing your temper. He put his hand on your shoulder to try and get your attention, an innocent enough touch but incredibly unwelcome and it made your skin crawl. 

You shoved his hand off and turned back to your purse, desperately trying to find the cash to put on the bar for the server’s sake and just leave. 

“Don’t be like that,” the stranger said, reaching out again.

You gasped and jumped when out of nowhere someone grabbed the man’s wrist, wrenching it away from you and twisting. There was a little bit of a clatter from some glasses as they grabbed him by his shirt and shoved him back into the bar.

It was Din, glaring and nostrils flaring with every breath. The offending man looked uncomfortable at best, prone and unable to move without putting himself in a more painful position. 

“She told you no,” Din said, his voice a low grumble and the tone outright menacing. His jaw was clenched so tight his mouth barely moved when he said it. 

“Hey,” the stranger said, voice higher and panicky, “take it easy, man, I don’t want any trouble.”

You reached out quickly, instantly noticing the way Din’s head tilted and his eyes narrowed. The body language was familiar to you now that you had seen him riled up like this more than once. He was at ease with violence, but his shoulders tensed up when he was pissed. He didn’t puff out his chest, he leaned himself in ever so slightly with the challenge. 

“Din,” you grabbed his arm. When he didn’t seem to hear, you tried again, “please, stop. “

Din let go and angled his body so he was partially in front of you, pretty much blocking you from the view of the stranger. 

Arlan had walked over, seeing the commotion. You turned to him, quickly letting him know you wouldn’t be getting a ride home with him, trying to quietly assure him you were fine.

There was a short window for you to get him out of the bar before that asshole opened his mouth again. You didn’t want it to escalate any further. You liked that bar, and you didn’t want to be banned. 

Just as you got Din to turn towards you and started to lead the way out, the stranger murmured under his breath.

“She’s an ugly bitch anyway.” 

His arm slipped out of your grip roughly and before you fully turned around Din’s fist was already making contact. There was a crack, a collective sound of gasps, and sympathetic ‘oh’s’ from around the bar as it landed. The man was thrown back into the bar, and he seemed unable to pull himself up. Din went forward to grab him again, and when he did there was blood trickling out of his nose. 

“Apologize.” 

“All of you out!” The bartender was commanding, reaching for a phone. 

“Apologize!” Din demanded again, giving him a rough shake. The man’s head lolled with the motion. 

“Hey, hey,” you said quickly, grabbing his arm again, “we gotta go.” You pulled but he wasn’t budging. “Din, come on, before they call the police,” you insisted. 

Din let go of the man, who slumped backwards against the bar. With an apology to Arlan you started to tug Din by his coat sleeve towards the exit. At first, it was difficult, he let you guide him a few steps but he was glaring back towards the bar until you let go of his jacket and grabbed his hand with a sharp pull. Suddenly he started to walk with you instead of resisting.

When you were out of the door fresh air felt like heaven for your nerves, with embarrassment and a little bit of fear your temperature had risen with your heart rate. You realized you were a little bit shaken, stomach-churning with a small rush of adrenaline. Din was obviously still fuming, one hand was tight in yours but he was refusing to look at you, his other hand flexing in and out of a fist. 

You were surprised at yourself. 

You should have been more upset – violence was not exactly something you condoned. It’s not like you were the damsel in distress type, either. But all you could think of was how fucking hot it was that he had come to your defense with so much fire in his eyes. 

Maybe it was a mix of alcohol and adrenaline, but you couldn’t find it in you to be angry. 

“So… never a dull moment with you, huh?” you joked, trying to lighten the mood. 

He looked at you with a frown, anger turning to confusion before he scoffed. He was smiling a little, though, so you figured you had done an okay job. 

“Have you been drinking?”

“No,” he shook his head. 

“Good,” you nodded your head. “Take me back to my place.” 

You tried hard not to make something out of the way he held your hand until he absolutely couldn’t anymore while he headed toward the alleyway next to the bar. He hid around the corner to put his vest and helmet back on and when he was in the clear you followed him around so you could climb onto the bike behind him. 

When he took off he went a little too fast at first, and the thrill of it must have made you laugh because he felt your body move with the sound behind him but he slowed down again. Your arms were tight around him, pressed flush to his back. There were several layers of clothes between the two of you, but he swore you were a searing heat against his back. Tempting and soothing at the same time.

The streets were still a little busy when he pulled up to the shop so you had him go around the back. A small alleyway filled with mostly discarded crates and a dumpster, a blinking light above the back door. When you climbed off he made no move to follow, you frowned. 

“What are you doing? Come inside, I have drinks upstairs.” You said it over the rumble of the bike. 

Just hearing you say it made his whole body seem to stand to attention and he wasn’t exactly sure what to expect but he wasn’t going to say _no_. He killed the engine and gracefully swung his leg over the bike to start following you. 

After fumbling with the keys with slightly shaking hands, you opened the door and led the way inside. The shop was dark but you moved around it easily and he did too just slower. When you got to the stairway that led to your loft he stopped, suddenly remembering. 

“What about your brother?”

“He’s gone for the night.” You told him with an impish smile. 

It was almost too convenient. 

You made your way up the stairs and he followed, careful to watch his step as you opened the door and started turning lights on. The loft was nice, but not super spacious. There was a small staircase leading up to your “bedroom” which was just an open upper level above your living room which only really had room for a couch. He couldn’t see much up there except for a wardrobe and some plants whose vines hung over the edge. As far as kitchens went, yours was a tiny one and you had a table only meant for one or two people. There were, of course, plants in every window sill, and a couple of taller large-leafed plants by the staircase. Some freshly cut flowers in a tall vase on the island separating the kitchen from the living area were beginning to wilt.

There was some clutter around – paperwork or books, a sweatshirt, and or some socks here and there. But it was open and light, even in the evening. 

“Bathroom’s around the corner if you wanna take that off,” you said with a grin. 

He lightly made his way towards the bathroom. Which was very small. A cramped shower, toilet, and a sink were all it had to offer, and very limited space to move around. Various toiletries littered the countertop, some make-up left out from when you were getting ready for the night. And, of course, a couple of plants hanging from hooks in the ceiling. 

Din took off the helmet first and stared at himself in the mirror. 

This was not how he wanted to be invited up to your place. That kind of aggression was exactly what had made you so cautious of him when you two had first met, and he wouldn’t blame you if you were scared of him now. He could have intervened in a different way – a threat would have probably been enough but his temper got the best of him. Your voice had raised and he saw on your face that you were feeling cornered – and when the asshole put his hand on you… he was up and moving before he could even think about it.

But you invited him over anyway. Had only tried to joke and get him out of the bar before authorities showed up. And he was thankful. The last thing he needed was to spend a night in a cell – it didn’t look good especially since he had just legally been named Junior’s guardian. He didn’t need that heat from the Republic.

When he came out you were popping the caps off of a couple of beers in the kitchen. A breeze ruffled in through the curtains of an open window and he found it strangely intimate. You were barefoot walking around the kitchen island offering him a beer as the sounds from the still somewhat lively streets below. He offered a quiet thanks as he accepted the drink. You sat down on the couch and nodded for him to join you. When he did sit, he was sure it was a respectable distance on the other end of the couch.

You turned to face him, pulling your feet onto the cushions and leaning back against the arm as you relaxed in your own space, pulling a swig from the bottle in your hand. “You know, I could have handled that guy.”

“I believe it.” He said.

“But you punched him anyway?”

“Yeah,” was all he said and took a drink. There was no way to say how angry he had been and why without coming on too strong, too quickly. 

You nodded. “Well… promise you won’t hit anyone else on my account, okay?”

He knew better than to promise you that. “Stop getting into trouble and I won’t have to.”

“Getting into trouble?” you scoffed, “I was just buying a drink.”

Din gave a little laugh but didn’t say anything.

“How is your shoulder?” 

Now that he thought about it, there was a little bit of pain. “It’s fine.” 

“How did it happen?”

“Occupational hazard.”

You narrowed your eyes, “you gotta give me more than that.”

He cleared his throat. “I ran into an old…associate on a hunt. She wasn’t very happy to see me.”

“I’ve personally never felt like stabbing an ‘old associate’.’” You retorted. “Maybe an ex or two… is that what she was?”

“I’m sure she likes to think so,” he said, thinking back to the conversation he and Xi’an had exactly five seconds before she tried to shove one of her beloved knives into his neck under the helmet. 

He had deflected in time to make sure it only hit the shoulder and not too deep, but he shouldn’t have let his guard down around her.

“Harsh,” you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“If you knew her you wouldn’t think so,” he said wryly. 

You laughed and then trailed off. You considered how much you were going to pry, but you were so curious you could hardly keep from asking, “Is she Junior’s mom?” 

“No,” he said with the slightest hint of incredulousness. “Definitely not.”

“Is Junior’s mom still around?” you were asking for selfish reasons, you knew. 

It was gonna be hard to harbor a crush on a man who not only was assigned to ensure your brother paid his debts but was also still involved with the mother of his child. You may as well have found out then so you could get over it before it went too far.

“I don’t know,” he said and then looked you in the eye. “He’s not mine – no, he _is_ mine but I didn’t… I found him. When I was looking for a bounty.”

“Oh,” you said in slight shock. 

“Whoever they were must have been important to someone. Some Imps had him.”

“What did ex-Imperials want with a baby?” you asked.

The Empire had fallen quite some time ago, the Republic revolution was the first major historical event you had lived through, but some sympathizers were still around moving in the shadows. You had never encountered any yourself but news stories came up every once in a while about the Republic navy busting down the doors of some ex-war-lord planning something nefarious in faraway cities. 

“Not sure,” Din shook his head. “We waited and looked for months but there were no missing person reports out for him, no one claimed him. It was like he didn’t even exist.”

“But you took him in – gave him a home. He has you now,” you said softly. “He’s a happy kid, I can tell. You’re doing a good job.”

That meant more to him than he thought it would. The weight of it hit him right in the chest and he held your gaze for a moment, full of some unspoken emotion before he looked away and cleared his throat. Din took a drink to try and stifle down the raw feeling in his throat. He had visibly softened before you and your heart ached in your chest for him. 

“So, what you’re telling me is… you’re single?” Another joke, mostly to make sure he didn’t clam up from the intense emotion you just watched pass over his face. 

He gave a soft laugh, this time a little bashful and he certainly was refusing to look at you when he said, “yes.”

“Good to know,” you hid your grin by taking another sip of beer. 

You were being bold, and the drinks from the bar and now this beer were starting to settle in. Any embarrassment or shame went straight out the window and you were alone with a Mandalorian in your loft. 

“Why can’t you take the helmet off in front of people?” you asked. He looked at you with a blank expression, “shit, am I not supposed to ask about that?”

“You can,” he nodded a little. “Our ancestors wore armor from head to toe and couldn’t show their faces to anyone,” he explained, “the creed has evolved with time but when we’re on the bikes, when we wear the symbol of the Mandalorians – we aren’t just ourselves. We represent the creed. Taking off the helmet when you ride or while you wear the cut… it disrespects the history.”

“And the kids in the compound – the families you take in, that’s…just charity or is that the creed?”

“The kids without parents are called foundlings,” he explained, “orphans that we take in, train them so they can build a life – most choose to follow the creed when they’re of age.” He paused and swallowed before admitting, “I was a foundling.” You gave him no readable expression but there was no pity so he went on, “we care for the families because no one took the Mandalorians in when the Empire destroyed their home. We know what it’s like to rebuild from nothing.”

You imagined he was talking about the Mandalorians from years and years ago. Stories had been told about the Empire stripping their home for resources. The Empire had always been a violent and cruel regime, everyone felt the boot on their neck, but some places got it worse than others. Mandalore had certainly been one of them. 

“Well… I’m very grateful. Everything you’ve done for Syala it’s…” you shook your head a little, the guilt making tears prick at the corner of your eyes, “the Mandalorians have been better to her than we have.”

“You didn’t know.”

“Not a very good excuse,” you admitted and took a drink. 

“It’s…” he started and then stopped to think of what he wanted to say. Diplomacy was not his forte but he didn’t want to offend you. “Your loyalty to your brother is admirable,” he said, “but that doesn’t mean you have to bear the guilt for him. You and Syala made your peace. That’s the end of it.”

You nodded. “Thanks.”

There was a tense moment where you thought he was going to move closer to you, maybe put a hand on your knee and lean in. Your eyes flitted down to his lips, wondering if they would be soft or a little chapped. When you realized what you were doing you snapped yourself out of it and looked anywhere but at him – taking a long drink out of the bottle in your hand. The booze was definitely getting to you a little bit. 

There was an awkward silence you couldn’t stand, you broke the tension with another stupid joke. He just smiled at you, that little upturn of one side of his lips until he got shy and looked away. 

After that, you just talked. He asked about the shop and you told him how you got the idea for the name from a mythology book you read in your childhood. For someone so quiet, suddenly conversation seemed so easy for him once you got him going. The two of you talked until the sun started peeking over the horizon, and at that point, he seemed to remember he had a son waiting at home who would inevitably keep him up all day.

You entered your number into his phone (an old and beat-up relic but functional none-the-less) as you walked with him back down the steps and towards the back door so you could lock up behind him. He looked back to find you waiting in the doorway to see him off and he stopped. He was back in the helmet and cut again, so you couldn’t read his expression. That should have made it easier for him.

“D’Qar has a festival this coming week – a celebration of the local forest. Lots of … plants.” He cringed at himself behind the helmet. 

You looked at him, head cocked to the side in confusion until…oh. You snapped upright and blurted out, “are you asking me on a date?”

“Yes.” He said, hands slightly fisted at his side and his whole body rigid. 

“Okay, yeah, sure,” you said it too quickly, and with way too much excitement. You desperately tried to remind yourself to just play it cool. “Just text me…or call. Whatever.”

“Okay,” he nodded once. “Goodbye.”

“Bye…ride safe,” you said. 

He climbed on the bike, and he cringed again when it started up loudly echoing off the walls of the shop. You waved at him before he took off and he waved back. He couldn’t help but think he was hopeless at this, dating and flirting and all of that stuff that came before you settled down with someone. But you said yes.

You shut and locked the door behind you and couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up. The sun was coming up and you would have to wait a whole week for this date, but you were too excited to sleep. It felt a little silly, how giddy you were, and if anyone ever knew or asked you would place the blame on the alcohol still in your system.

As you laid down alone in your bed, you thought that maybe you should have kissed him before he put that helmet back on. 

You still wondered if his lips would be soft on your own.


	6. Linger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not too long ago you had usually wanted him out of your presence as soon as possible, regardless of whatever curiosity you had about him – it was just easier not to think about when he wasn’t in your space. But now you were cursing the small distance between you at the table; you wanted him to put his hands on you – anywhere on you – again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: language, brief discussion of parents (deceased parents & a little bit of dark humor thrown in. It’s not egregious but if it's a sensitive subject for you please don’t read it – message me and I can redact the parts so you can read without being triggered), non-graphic descriptions of smut, dry humping.

Picking an outfit was tough since you had no idea if you were going to ride the bike or take a car all the way to D’Qar.

Wearing anything but pants on the bike was risky, so just to be safe you chose some jeans and a black tank top, a little flouncy thing with lace edges, and grabbed a colorful duster cardigan just in case it got chilly. 

There was a moment where you stood in front of the mirror, wondering if maybe you should do more – get more dressed up, change your make-up or maybe add a hat of some kind. But you were already cutting it close on time.

You had to close the shop early to get ready and leave in time for the festival, but you had a customer come in just as you were about to flip the sign. You had made the sale about a half-an-hour later, but you had to rush to be ready in time.

It was starting to feel a bit overwhelming with no one to help run the store, you had grown quite used to Tycho being able to open or keep the store afloat while you were also giving attention to other aspects of your life like dating and helping out Syala. 

The drive to the Covert went as usual: the Mandalorian at the gate saluted you before he let you in. Din waved you down from Syala’s open door, holding Junior who lifted his chubby little hand in a wave as well. When you parked and climbed out of the car you willed your nerves to calm down as he smiled at you warmly when you greeted him, catching his eyes dropping and taking you in. 

You felt silly for being nervous – he was in your apartment with you alone just a week before and you had no issues flirting or talking to him then. If he noticed how bashful you were being, you couldn’t tell, and you just followed him inside. 

The small home was bursting at the seams with people – not only were Syala and the three kids buzzing around but Paz was also there and now Din, Junior, and yourself. It did not do much for how nervous you were, and when Nessa threw herself into your arms and immediately began chatting your ear off you had to do your best to not seem overwhelmed. 

Syala took Junior from Din’s arms, attempting to let you two get on with your date. The moment Nessa finished giving you a lengthy update on her week in the Covert, Syala piped in. “I’m sure there’s more, but this house is too full now.” 

“But she just got here,” Nessa whined. 

“And she will come back another day,” Paz interjected from the couch, “won’t you?”

It was the least aggressive thing he had ever said to you, lacking the accusatory tone he had before, but it was not quite friendly either. 

You nodded your head to him before looking back to Nessa. “Absolutely,” you said, “I have plans with Junior’s dad tonight, so I’m sure you’ll help your mom take care of the little ones right?”

“That’s why Paz is here,” Lysa said from next to Paz, where she had an open coloring book. 

When you looked over again you noticed he was coloring as well, holding a crayon that looked cartoonishly small in his hand. 

“Oh, is that right?” 

The youngest nodded her head, very invested in her work. You gave a sly look to Syala before you stood up to start towards the door.

“You and Din are going on a date,” Nessa said plainly before you could get very far and then asked, “when mom and Paz go on a date, will you stay with us?” 

Syala was flustered and took Junior to the other side of the room to set him down with Jido and you heard Din let out a light breathy laugh. You were staring wide eyed at your niece before clearing your throat. 

“Sure,” you said. “If that’s what your mom wants.”

Paz was laughing, it was throaty and warm and totally delighted. You looked to Syala for help who was actively avoiding eye contact with you. 

“Let’s go,” Din said, undoubtedly amused. 

You gave a little wave goodbye to the room and followed him out still reeling from the conversation. 

“So…” you breathed out, turning to him, “my car or the bike?”

“D’Qar’s far for your first real ride,” he said. 

“My car it is.”

“You look beautiful,” Din blurted out, he _hoped_ it came out casual but he didn’t meet your eye just in case it didn’t. 

“Thank you,” you said, a smile lighting up your face. “You look good too…did you shave?”

He touched his cheek absentmindedly, “yeah.”

“For me?” Your smile turned coy and teasing. 

“No,” he said dryly. “For Paz.”

The way you giggled made his stomach do a flip. It felt strange to have him climb into your car, you were almost worried he’d judge the way you drove. Nerves were making you question every move you made. It was quiet in the car as you started your journey. 

D’Qar was a three-hour drive, and the bike would have made for a quiet ride but at least it would have been out of necessity rather than just because you two couldn’t seem to overcome whatever nerves you had. After being on the road for a few minutes you knew you would have to break the ice. Finally, because it was on your mind and he would be your best bet at finding out you asked.

“Paz and Syala, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said. “He’s been coming around a lot more.”

You nodded your head. 

Din looked at you, the way you set your gaze forward with no expression. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” you said with certainty. “It just kind of…finalizes things with her and my brother, you know? But,” you shrugged a little, “can’t blame her if she wants to move on. Tycho’s had plenty of chances.”

“Have you told him?”

The simple question could mean so many things. Had you told him that Syala was in the Covert? That you were out on a small road trip with a Mandalorian for a date? 

You shook your head no and afterward, he didn’t say anything, had you offended him? 

“This is a nice light conversation for a first date,” you joked, “very casual.”

“You want me to talk about the weather?” 

“Fuck no,” you laughed. 

He laughed a little and looked over. You had your eyes on the road, the smile had not quite fallen from your face and he wanted to tell you how beautiful you were again. He had already said so, and maybe that would be too much so he kept himself quiet. And in place of that comment was a heavy sort of silence, one where he knew that something was left unsaid but you didn’t. 

He settled for asking, “how are things at the shop?”

That hurled you into a conversation that you could carry while he got comfortable since it did usually take him a moment to find the groove of a conversation. He just wasn’t much of a talker and spent a lot of time alone on the road, or talking to a two-year-old that was a little behind others as far as speaking went. 

Still, he liked the way your face lit up when you spoke about the shop. You were proud of it, it was your own little dream that had become reality, and your whole heart seemed to be in it. Being in a car for such a long time on a first date really would have been rough if it was anyone else, but this was strangely companionable. He was trying to make conversation, and you met him halfway when he came up a little short. 

Soon enough the desert started to shift into fields and then slowly into a forest. There was an instant pang of something in your heart – you lived in a small watering hole town in the middle of an area with cracked dry ground and hardly any rain so the view of greenery as far as you could see was a little bittersweet.

“Have you ever been?” Din asked.

“No,” you said. “It’s lovely.”

“Gets better.”

And he was right, you passed through the main township which was vibrantly decorated for the festival. In every window hung D’Qar’s flag and the streets were crowded with people in restaurants dining outside in the good weather or looking at bargains through the windows. D’Qar was surrounded by a jungle, so even though the sun was starting to set it, the canopy of the trees made it just a little darker. 

The festival actually took place deeper in the forest so you passed through the town and further under the dark shade of the trees. You rolled down the windows just to smell the air, fresh and earthy, and a balm of humidity permeated the car. When you were closer, signs started to pop up, lanterns guiding the way to a dirt parking lot. You were chattering about some local plants you were familiar with, a few that you had trouble selling in the shop due to the lack of humidity in Nevarro and Din was not really following but he listened intently anyway. 

The entrance was marked by an archway of woven dried branches, each one painted a different color to make a beautiful chaotic arrangement and when you passed through you were a little shocked. It was not as if you had expected Din to be bad at picking something to do for a date, he had thought of the festival because of how much you loved plantlife – but you hadn’t expected it to be as lovely as it was. 

There were fabric banners hanging above the canopy of blues, greens, deep purples, and vibrant pinks, and they were spaced enough that you could still look up and see the trees. From them hung a rainbow of colorful twinkling lights and paper lanterns casting a beautiful technicolor hue over everything. It smelled wonderful – the fresh smell of nature mixing in with perfumes of various goods being sold and food that you just knew would be amazing. 

It was almost too much to take in at once. There were booths by locals, educating and encouraging donations to preserve the natural forest around the town when you passed by and you had to go up and take in whatever information you could get. After that, the two of you took your time moving through the different booths selling anything from soaps to jewelry to handmade toys and more. 

You stopped at a toy booth staring at the array of different stuffed animals, wind-up toys, and wooden noisemakers.

“Should we get something for the kids?”

Din looked over, “you bought Nessa a skateboard last month.”

“She wanted to learn!”

“And the box of books for Lysa? Or the very _loud_ toy you gave to Jido,” he raised his eyebrows a little.

You pursed your lips and looked down at all of the brightly colored toys. “What does Junior like?”

“He doesn’t need anything,” he said in response.

“I didn’t ask what he _needed_ ,” you turned to him, and he was looking around with the same aloof expression. “Din,” you said, “let me buy your son’s love, just tell me what he likes.”

He scoffed a little, his lips turned up in a small smile. “He doesn’t play with toys much…he just plays around with whatever is nearest.” When he looked at you, it was obvious that the answer would not suffice. “He’s always chasing frogs if they’re around…” he admitted, with a little shrug, “but he always tries to eat them.”

You looked around at the stuffed animals, there were a few frogs – different colors and sizes. “Pick one.”

“No.”

“You are no fun at all,” you laughed. “Pick one.” He didn’t even look at the display so you planted your feet, “I’m not moving until you pick one.”

“You think I can’t move you myself?”

A few thoughts flashed through your mind, thoughts that were incredibly inappropriate to be thinking while surrounded by children in a booth full of toys. 

Still, you cocked an eyebrow and folded your arms in a challenge. Din gave a beleaguered sigh and looked at a few of the knitted toys. He grabbed the first one that caught his eye, big enough that Junior wouldn’t be able to choke on it and brown in color. Big black eyes and a thin line for a mouth that went along the length of its face, making it look like one long frown. 

You giggled at it when he handed it to you. “It’s weirdly precious,” you admitted. 

“He’s gonna try to eat it.”

“Better this than a real frog.”

He couldn’t stop you from buying it, and if he was honest it made him feel warmed by the fact that you were so excited to get it for Junior. You stuck it safely in your bag and finally moved on to other booths. It was hard not to spend stupid amounts of money on all the little trinkets you found, but you were holding off, instead of grabbing business cards to look up some of the shops later. 

Din followed you around, watching you easily make conversation with the vendors or get excited about all the little things you saw. When it was just the two of you walking and talking, he noticed the way your shoulder bumped into him – hands sometimes brushing when it did happen. It would be the perfect moment to reach out and grab it, his hand seemed to itch to do so. 

There was a lull in the conversation and he looked over to find your head upturned to the canopy of the forest, some of the brighter stars and the moon shining through. Every time he found you quiet you were looking up, marveling at just how many trees there were. 

“How did you end up in a desert town like Nevarro?” Din asked. 

“My dad chose it a while back,” you said. “We lived in Endor before, when I was just a baby.” You chewed on your lip a little, “my mom got caught in some crossfire when the Empire showed up to build a fort there so my Dad took me and Tycho as far away as possible.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. 

You shrugged a little. “I can’t really remember her. It was harder for Tycho than it was for me, he was the one who really knew her.”

“And your Dad?”

“He passed a while ago.”

Din couldn’t put his foot further in his mouth if he tried. His mouth set into a tight line and you gave him a smile.

“Hey, it’s fine,” you shook your head, and when he didn’t look at you but kept walking along the dirt path you reached your hand to take his. “I’m serious, it’s okay.”

He gripped your hand in his. “I lost my parents to the Empire.”

You squeezed his hand a little tighter. “And that’s how you ended up a…” you paused, making sure you remembered correctly, “a foundling? Right?”

He nodded his head. 

“It’s terrible… how much they took from everyone.”

Din said nothing. 

You had to turn this around, but you weren’t sure how. These conversations kept going this way, drifting into territories far more personal than you could have anticipated. He knew things about your life that not even some of your closest friends did: your brother’s issues that had become yours, where your family had come from, and why. Hell, you were sure he’d revealed things he maybe wouldn’t tell just anybody. He didn’t really seem like an open-book kind of man. Yet, you knew quite a bit about him now.

You laughed, it was bad timing and you tried to cover your mouth to mask it but he heard you.

“What?” He asked roughly. 

“Nothing, it’s just,” you regained your composure before going on, but there was a mischievous smile on your face that you couldn’t force away. “We are _really bad_ at this.”

Din stared in confusion, stopped in his tracks, and just looked at you. 

“Oh, come on,” you said seriously, “look at our track record.” You were stopped on the path, people passing by you, so you began listing things quietly so he had to come closer to hear you. “We met because you were hunting my brother, you know more about why his marriage fell apart than even I do! And over the course of the entire time I’ve known you, every conversation we’ve had just gets so personal. The only way we could have done this more backward would be if we fucked that night in the loft.”

It’s not as if you hadn’t wanted to that night. Of course, you had. And he would be lying if he said it hadn’t crossed his mind when you invited him up to your home. It had crossed his mind many times before that, and to have the possibility of it actually happening dangled in front of him was… maddening.

He still said nothing. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have laughed,” you conceded. “First dates are just usually awkward because you don’t really know the person — and we’re here discussing _dead parents_.”

“You’re right,” he said finally, “I’ll talk about the weather instead.”

It was your turn to be baffled and speechless. 

“D’Qar’s a bit humid,” he said blandly, looking up at the canopy. “It’s nice in the evening, the temperature doesn’t drop as harshly as the desert.”

You blinked at him. “I hate it. Talk more about your dead parents.”

His shoulders shook when he started to laugh, and the corners of his eyes scrunched up with his genuine smile. You took his hand in yours again and kept walking through the rows of booths. The conversation was easy again despite the small bump in the road before, you considered it might just be easier to accept that for whatever reason you two just spilled secrets out no matter how hard you tried to keep it light and casual. 

When you two finally sat down to eat, grabbing a few things from the variety of choices. It was almost impossible to choose so you two picked something that sounded good with the intention to share – Din had looked at you strangely when you suggested it but went along anyway. You also grabbed something sugary and messy, some pastry covered with powdered sugar and chocolate before you two sat down at an empty picnic table. 

You laughed at his blank face when you stole a bite from his plate and in a peace offering slid your own plate over. At some point, you were concerned that you were being too much, and you tried to read him for any kind of actual signs of discomfort. But you were finding that Din was not very good at keeping his emotions off of his face – even if he was making a dry comment or teasing you for something there was a hint of a smile on his face. At this point, you assumed any heavy sigh or sardonic look he sent your way was nothing more than him pretending to be bothered by any of your antics. 

When you dug into your desert and he declined to want any, you shrugged and set about eating it as delicately as possible. Which was fruitless since it was a messy and delicious thing. You were telling a story about a horrific wedding you had done a wreathed archway for when you saw him reaching out of the corner of your eye. Looking up at him, his hand stopped halfway out towards your face and he hesitated, eyes going a little wider as if he realized what he had been doing the moment you looked at him. 

But then he reached out and wiped away at some powdered sugar resting below your bottom lip. He got it on the first try but his thumb came out and dragged along your bottom lip again anyway. His adam’s apple bobbed with a hard swallow when he felt how soft they were, and he had to fight the urge to press it into your mouth – just to see what it felt like. He withdrew his hand and you stared, lips parted a little and suddenly the humidity felt incredibly warmer than it had before. 

He cleared his throat, “you had some – there was sugar.”

“Oh,” you said, a little breathless, “thanks.”

He nodded his head and looked away. You finished your pastry in silence. There was music playing from a small stage set up not too far away that thankfully filled in the lack of conversation but you could feel the tension between you. Not too long ago you had usually wanted him out of your presence as soon as possible, regardless of whatever curiosity you had about him – it was just easier not to think about when he wasn’t in your space. But now you were cursing the small distance between you at the table; you wanted him to put his hands on you – anywhere on you – again. 

You were flustered and needed to move, so you grabbed all the trash on the table and walked a little ways away to throw it out. 

When he came back he was looking at you again, a new look in his eyes you weren’t entirely sure how to discern. Intense but not angry. He said, “there’s a show somewhere around here of the best homegrown native plants.”

You nodded with a smile. “Let’s go check it out.” 

When he stood up and made his way around the table he took his hand in yours, his thumb rubbing gently against the skin for only a moment. The tension settled into something more comfortable once you got to the plant show – there were some you had never heard of and a few you were familiar with. Din’s hand stayed in yours the entire time as you roamed around and wondered at all of them. 

It was getting late and the two of you had a long drive home, so after you had your fill of tropical plants you headed back through the festival towards the entrance. You stopped to grab some artisan soap that had caught your eye before but Din stepped in and paid for it before you could. There was another pretend stand-off in the booth when he raised an eyebrow at you, a smug smirk on his face. 

It probably should not have been as hot as you thought it was. 

When you two made it back to the car you checked your phone and responded to a text from Tycho. He saw the name flash onto the screen and tried to let it go – succeeding in not asking anything until you two were on the road again. As the trees started to become sparse on the side of the road, your headlights and the moon the only light that was hitting the pavement he looked over. 

“Are you going to tell your brother?” He asked. 

You glanced over at him, before bringing your eyes back to the road. “He knows I’m on a date with you.” You paused, “he still doesn’t technically know who you are, but he knows I’m out.”

He didn’t say anything and you began talking just to explain yourself.

“I know it’s bad,” you admitted. “He still doesn’t know Sy’s at the Covert, or that I’ve been going to see her.” You heaved a sigh, “I’m afraid he’ll do something stupid and get himself hurt.”

“Like what?”

“Like show up to the Covert demanding to see the kids,” you said, “can’t imagine any of those people at the gate will politely ask him to leave.”

“Probably not.”

“And it’s nice.” You admitted. 

“What is?”

“Having a little secret with you,” you were hot with slight embarrassment, but the cover of the night made it seem easier to just say. You didn’t even have to look at him, you could just keep your eyes on the road. “I like when you come into the store and we look at each other and know but no one else does.” You gave a sheepish laugh, “probably stupid.”

“It’s not.” He said softly. “He’s going to figure out who I am eventually,” he said, “especially when we keep seeing each other. Can’t be helped. But it’d be best if we keep Syala’s location to ourselves.”

There was a lot to unpack there. You knew it was important to keep Tycho from the Covert for his safety but all of the conversations about why Syala left and how she ended up in the Covert were not really adding up. Was it important for her safety that he didn’t know? Still, all of that crossed your mind and all you could focus on was another question.

“Wait,” you said, “‘when’ we keep seeing each other? You wanna do this again?”

“Yes,” Din said as if it were obvious. “Do you?”

“Yes,” you said quickly. 

“Good,” he said. He mulled the words over in his head before he said, “I-I like you. Very much.” _Too much, really._

You breathed out a soft laugh. “I like you too.” 

He wanted to ask you to pull over. You could crawl over the middle console and sit in his lap. There would be no one on the road, and even if there was it was unlikely they’d stop. He could kiss you, and see if your mouth was as warm and wet as he imagined it would be. You would be so close and his hands would take in the way you felt, press you as close to him as he could. Getting your clothes off would be a bit of a challenge, but he could slip his hand past the waistband of your jeans. 

Din shifted in his seat, pulling at his jeans which were beginning to get uncomfortably tight, thankful for the darkness in the car. The drive passed by in somewhat of a haze to him, and to you it felt like it was all passing quickly. The two of you had been talking for hours it seemed, and there were more silences now as you felt a little tired but you switched on the radio to fill them in. 

Din was too busy trying to keep himself from reaching out and grabbing your thigh. There was so much that he wanted to do, and he still wasn’t sure what was too much. The last thing he wanted to do was scare you off. He eventually settled for setting his hand on the headrest of your chair. You felt his fingers come out to feel the texture of your hair, a soft and experimental touch. 

These gentle touches continued for the remainder of the drive, his fingertips grazing gently over the back of your neck or tracing the shell of your ear. You couldn’t do much but grip the steering wheel tighter with every electric touch, and answer with a whisper when he asked lowly if it was okay. By the time you arrived at the gate of the compound your heart was hammering in your chest. You pulled up in front of Syala’s little home, the lights were still on inside. 

Now that the car was stationary, a little bit of extra light coming in through the windows from the floodlights that lit up the main road in the Covert, you looked over at him. Your eyes met for a few moments, his jaw ticking slightly when his eyes flicked down to your lips. The air was heavy between you and you swore he was going to lean in when – 

He swiftly unbuckled himself and got out of the car, slamming the door with a haste that made you flinch back. You saw him taking purposeful strides around the car out of the windshield and you followed his lead. Unsure if you had upset him or of what was happening, you were barely on your feet out of the car when he was suddenly there. 

Not roughly but with intention, he pressed you against the car. There was a moment that felt longer than it actually was where he waited to see if you would push him away. His eyes roved over your face for any kind of hint that you didn’t want him. 

There was none. 

His lips pressed hard against yours. Chapped but somewhat soft as well, you gave a soft breathless sound before your hands came to his face to pull him in for more. Your bodies pressed close together, the hard exterior of the car unwavering behind you and he pressed so close you had to spread your legs to accommodate him. His leg came between yours and he slanted his head as his tongue delved past your lips. 

When you hiked a leg up onto his hip you felt something pressing into your leg – a hard outline of something you couldn’t make out the shape of – but his hand grabbed at your thigh to keep it there and you could hardly let yourself think about what it was.

There was the slightest scratch from some fresh almost not-there stubble on his cheeks, and the smell of leather and something woody. It was a wave of him crashing into you, unyielding and grabbing at your sides with desperation. When your fingers slid up into his hair, he gave the slightest grunt and pressed harder – the bulge in the front of his jeans was unmistakable to you, you knew exactly what _that_ was. It made a tingle run down your spine and your hips rolled towards it. All that did was drag you against his thigh and when you moaned at the sensation he pulled away. 

He opened his mouth to ask you to come inside when there was a sudden and shrill shriek from a few feet away. 

There was barely a moment for you to process before he was roughly pushing you so he could stand in front of you, his hand going to the same hip you had felt the strange object on. It occurred to your somewhat distracted mind that it was probably a gun. You weren’t sure how to feel, not surprised that he of all people was armed but you had never been that close to one before. 

When he looked towards the sound he saw that Syala’s front door was open and in her arms was a very unhappy Junior, another cry broke the silence in the compound. Din cringed a little bit. 

“Sorry,” Syala said with a grimace. “He heard you pull up.”

“It’s…” Din trailed off, shaking his head slightly. “I’ll take him.”

Syala met him halfway and shot you an apologetic look before heading back through her door. You were still catching your breath, hardly noticing how calm the kid had gotten now that he was in his father’s arms. Big tears streamed down his face, his bottom lip pressed out like he might start up again, but for the moment he just looked at you both. 

You were a little dumbstruck, not sure what to do, and absolutely wanting to pick up where you had left off. But Junior looked sleepy and very unhappy. You remembered the stuffed animal in your bag and gasped. Ducking inside the car for your bag, once you found it you pulled out the little frog. 

“Here you go,” you offered it up to him, coming a little closer. 

Din took a deep breath, his blood coming back to his brain. “For you, ad’ika,” he murmured, rubbing the little boy’s back gently. 

Chubby little hands reached out and grabbed the frowning frog. He inspected for a few moments, and it seemed it would hold his attention for the time being. Din looked over at you, lips kiss-swollen and with a little smile on your face. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I should…”

“Yeah,” you nodded your head, “yeah, of course.” 

“I’ll see you soon?”

You nodded your head, “you better.”

He laughed a little. 

You said a quiet goodbye to Junior who was now holding his frog tight in one hand. It felt a little awkward to go back to your car, climb in and start driving away but what else were you supposed to do? 

Din watched to make sure you made it through the gate before he made his way back to him and Junior’s tiny home. With a heavy sigh he collapsed onto the couch and Junior whined at the sudden movement. The frog was in his mouth, the poor thing’s eyes being chomped on by little teeth but Junior seemed soothed now. His eyes were drooping and Din couldn’t help but smile a little bit. 

“You’ve got terrible timing, you little ankle biter.”

* * *

Your drive home was not very long, but just long enough for you to feel restless. Tycho was asleep on the couch when you got home, the television still on and lightning up the room. You turned it off and threw a throw blanket over him before heading into the bathroom. 

Staring into the mirror, you let out a giddy little laugh. All you could do was replay your favorite moments of the night, and wonder when you would be able to see him again. The night had not ended the way you had imagined but your body couldn’t forget the way it felt. There was a rush of heat in your blood whenever you thought of the way he had looked at you before he kissed you.

And there was a lingering tingle in your lips. 


	7. Silver Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that you two were there, it was almost as if you forgot how to do this. Anticipation was thick in the air and you felt restless with it. He was right there and he must have wanted to have you alone, but you both seemed to be waiting for the other to do something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: canon-typical violence, blood, language, sex work (we love and respect sex workers here), nudity, smut, masturbation (m & briefly talked about f), oral (m receiving), fingering, verbal familial arguments, Responsible Sibling™️ baggage (if you know you know).

The sun was beating down on his back, the leather kept most of it at bay but he could feel the sweat dripping down the back of his neck. **  
**

It was going to be a long ride, and Din was trying to pace himself. His back hadn’t started to twinge yet, so he kept his posture as well as he could. The road to Canto Bight winded up the only mountain range viewable from Nevarro’s flatlands. That was sure to take more focus than the straight and even road he was on at the moment.

The bounty he was on, some top dog of a weapon dealing operation to Empire sympathizers, would set him and Junior up for a while. He’d been on the road on and off for a week doing smaller hunts given to him by an apologetic Greef Karga who was trying to divvy up the sparse pickings. 

There were always dry spells, and before he’d just snatch up the long term hunts no one else wanted. Before Junior, his quarters inside the Covert’s main hall gathered dust. Now, whenever there was a dip in bounties he panicked, grabbing whatever he could that wouldn’t have him out of town for longer than a couple of days at a time. 

The road began to wind a little as the altitude started to change. Canto Bight was a lush oasis that served as the bifurcation between Yavin’s green forests and a desert wasteland. An endless desert on one side with the best sunsets and a clear view Yavin’s tallest preserved ruins down the mountainside on the other. The ride was beautiful, and Canto Bight was beautiful too, but Din only went there to collect his least favorite kind of quarries. 

There were small villages of people along the road, most of them populated by people who worked in the resort town and made the trek up the mountain every day. None of the patrons traveled to Canto Bight through the desert side; Yavin was home to a Republic Fort so they could simply enjoy the view while ignoring the fact that it really was every man for themselves on the other side of the mountain. 

All of his bounties up there were organized crime, and when the Republic sniffed them out they specifically asked for a Mandalorian to take care of the problem. It allowed the Republic a clean capture or kill without getting their hands dirty. It was all politics and Din hated that but it was very good money. 

He stopped in one of the villages, heading to the cantina where he was meeting his contact. She was a bartender for the largest casino in the resort town and was already waiting at a table. For the sake of her anonymity, he kept his distance. She passed the information on a piece of paper slid to the corner of her table as he walked towards the bathroom. 

To anyone watching he was just a traveler using the amenities, but his hand swiped up the paper on his way by. He locked himself in a stall in the bathroom and took in the information she had to offer.

A room number, a dinner reservation, and a keycode to a private sauna booked for an hour block. It was good intel since it offered different chances for him to make his capture. 

He exited the bathroom and left some cash on the same corner of her table on his way out. 

He wasn’t able to enjoy the views of his ride since he was pushing through to make good time. The sun was reaching a peak in the direction he was heading. It made visibility a pain in the ass, but he had ridden through worse.

Hoth came to mind. He fucking hated Hoth. 

There was a shift in architecture as he approached Canto Bight. Developers had been influenced by the architectural styles of the locals who once lived there for a false sort of authenticity. Bulbous shapes carved out of white stone with glittering gold accents, and natural waterfalls were destroyed to recreate neater versions of themselves. 

It was typical for everyone to wear white while visiting. It was a color that showed if it was at all dirty. No one here did anything but drink champagne and gamble so there was no way the garments would ever be ruined. 

And there was Din on the Razor Crest. It had scratches and dents in the silver body. His jeans were rough and had black oil stains, the dark black shirt he wore was worn in many places but the leather vest alone was an indicator that he did not belong there. 

Picking up the quarry at his dinner reservation would be too public. This was a Republic sanctioned bounty but it would be easier for him if there were no authorities involved. He had no key to get into the room, but he could wait until night and strike. That would take a lot longer. 

The sauna was probably his best bet. It would be private and he could sneak through the employee entrances and exits.

Din altered his course to bring him to the backside of a building built into an impossibly large dome shape. He parked the bike, grabbed the pistol strapped behind the wind guard, and tucked it back into his holster on his side.

When he got to the door and walked into the much less glamorous hidden pathways reserved for workers, no one stopped him. He got a lot of looks, whispers behind his hands but no one got in his way. 

He walked with a purpose toward the elevator, where a man with a cart full of fluffy white towels was waiting for the doors to close.

It didn’t take long for him to be intercepted. 

A skinny arm came out to block his path and Din looked over to see a man in a dark green waistcoat over a white button-up along some matching green slacks. There was a little pin on his left lapel that said his name was Luca and underneath it was the title of ‘manager.’ A cord could be seen coming from inside the waistcoat with a microphone leading up to an earbud. 

“Just a moment, Mando,” he said. “This area is for employees only.” 

There was the vaguest hint of irritation to his voice underneath a practiced pleasantness. He had a long slender face with plush lips set in a very false smile. 

Din reached into the pocket inside of his vest and pulled out his contract. The man took it to read over quickly – taking in the name of the quarry and making sure the seal was official. He gave a little sigh when he was done, looking resigned as he folded the papers up again and handed them back. 

“I’ll keep it quiet,” Din assured him as he tucked the papers away. “But I need access.”

“Of course,” the manager said.

“Do you know where he is now?”

He pressed a button on his headset, “can anyone tell me where Mr. Tillian is? I have a package here for him.” There was a pause as the information came in, Luca’s eyes dragging over him in a way he couldn’t read. “He’s in a sauna. It’s been reserved for him so you’ll have privacy but you need the –”

“I have the key code.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Who is your informant?”

Din didn’t say anything, the blankness of the helmet talked for him. He wasn’t selling anyone out. 

The manager rolled his eyes before he walked away with a flippant wave towards the elevator, “he’s got two bodyguards with him. Try not to make a mess.” 

The elevator took a moment to return and with it was a young man, a bellhop, who jumped at the sight of him when he exited and stared the entire time until the doors closed again. Inside there was a map on the wall laying out all the hidden corridors and doors.

The quarry was on the top floor, and there was an employee entrance to the same hallway the sauna was in. The ride up was quiet since he was all alone, and he prepared himself for the two bodyguards.

Hand to hand combat would be best for dealing with them: minimal bloodshed and mostly quiet. There was a soft ding as the doors opened to a blank windowless room that hid the service elevator from view, and he opened the door just enough so he could see into the hallway.

It was opulent, with tall ceilings and stone walls. Large floral arrangements strategically placed to give it all a pop of color against the stark white. It had open visibility, only a few ornate archways to hide behind, and he could see that there were two burly looking people standing by a closed door. A couple of women in robes were walking through the hallway, and he waited for them to put their keycodes into another door and disappear behind it. 

His boots were silent on the floors as he approached. Seeing him out of the corner of their eyes, the bodyguards did a double-take. It didn’t take long for them to figure out he didn’t belong there. They both immediately reached for their guns. 

Well. So much for a quiet approach. 

One of them came closer, telling him to stop where he was. Din grabbed him by the forearm, pushing it upwards just as he pulled the trigger. The sound echoed off the walls before the bullet hit the stone. A few small pieces of an archway crumbled away. 

His fist slammed into the bodyguard’s gut and then wrapped around to lock the arm with the gun under his own, keeping it tight against his chest. His elbow flew out connecting hard with the man’s cheek before he swung him around to use him as a shield against the gunfire coming from the other bodyguard.

Shots were firing off randomly from the guard in his grasp, the hand with a gun having no control of his aim as he panicked and the other stood her ground at the door. It was loud as the sound of the guns going off echoed and there was the added noise of breaking glass when they hit some light fixtures on the wall. 

He could feel the impact of bullets hit his human shield and the man in his grip grew limp. He was harder to carry so Din dropped him and reached for his gun. The last bodyguard pulled the trigger of her own weapon only for it to click a few times – empty. 

“Walk away,” Din offered an out, his gun pointed from a reasonable distance. 

Instead, she turned to reach for the keypad next to the door. Din shot once, and it landed in the center of her back. She fell to the ground with a heavy thud. There were pieces of stone and glass littering the floor along with some dust from the bullets hitting the walls. And both bodyguards were on the ground; a splatter of red on the door and two pools of blood spilling out against the pristine white floors. 

He sighed a little bit from beneath the helmet before he went to the door. 

When he put in the key code and the mechanical lock allowed him in he was hit with a wall of steam that blocked his vision of the room. He could see the vague color of dark wood and the vague shape of a body.

“Doma! Close the fucking door, you’re letting the steam out!” 

Din was somewhat grateful for the thick walls that kept insulated heat inside and apparently sound. The commotion in the hall seemed to not have made it beyond the door.

The steam was beginning to filter out of the room which slowly revealed the shape of the Mandalorian in the door. There was a gasp and Din noted that it wasn’t the same voice as before. 

As the steam cleared it revealed his quarry, but it also revealed a few young women and all four of them were very naked. One was between his legs on her knees, and the others were draped over him although they did lean away with the new presence in the room. 

“Oh fuck,” Tillian said.

“Get out,” Din ordered and the girls scurried to find discarded towels while the man attempted to cover himself up. He entered further into the room which gave the girls space to leave and he heard one of them shriek at the wreckage in the hallway. 

“Who sent you?” asked the quarry. “Whoever it is, I can pay you more – I can pay whatever you want just don’t –”

“I can bring you in warm or I can bring you in cold.” Din grabbed the handcuffs off of his belt. 

“Can I get some clothes first?” 

Din kicked over a towel one of the girls had dropped on her way out. The man wrapped the towel around his waist and Din came forward to cuff him. When he dragged him out, the quarry tripped over one of his bodyguard’s bodies and at the feet of Din who roughly dragged him back up to his feet. He guided the way to the service elevator again, only to find the manager, Luca, along with some security who were keeping people from entering the level. 

“I thought you said you’d keep it _quiet_ ,” he frowned. 

“You didn’t tell me the bodyguards were armed.” 

“This is going to ruin you,” the quarry, Tillian, spit out at the manager, “I know the man who owns this casino—“

“I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t harbor war criminals - company policy,” Luca said with a sneer as the elevator arrived. “If you have a complaint I’m sure they’ll allow you pen and paper from whatever cell they throw you in.” 

“If he makes it that far,” Din said blandly as all three of them stepped in. 

“I should bill you for the cleaning … and the girls whose shifts got cut short tonight,” Luca said to Din as the doors closed and the elevator began to descend. 

“I’m sure he can cover it,” Din said nodding to the quarry again. 

“We do have his card on file.” The Manager said thoughtfully. 

“Was it the Republic? How did they find out? I was careful – ” Tillian asked. 

“Quiet,” Din demanded. 

“I can pay you, Mandalorian, whatever you want.”

Din didn’t respond to him but instead looked over to Luca. “Tell those girls I’m sorry about the mess in the hallway.” 

He regarded him with a sly smile. “Well aren’t you a gentleman.” 

The elevator reached the floor level and as the door opened, the quarry took what he thought was his last chance. He bolted out. Din shouted and chased after him. It was bustling in the corridors, full of employees and the man tried to dodge around another cleaning person with a cart full of supplies. He succeeded and Din lost speed trying to get around them. There were not many places for him to go but in a panic, he spotted a large wrench resting next to a toolbag one of the maintenance people had set aside. 

When the Mandalorian caught up, he was accosted by the wrench being chucked in his direction. It hit him in the shoulder, and sharp pain bloomed from the impact before it clattered to the ground. 

It wasn’t enough to stop Din. He dodged more tools being thrown his way by the cornered man as he got closer. Din pulled out his gun and aimed it, a few workers screamed and rushed to clear the corridor. Seeing the weapon, Tillian fell to his knees and began begging again. 

He kept the gun pointed and played with the idea of shooting. Instead, he brought his hand back and slammed the butt of it against the man’s temple, watching his body crumple as he lost consciousness.

It wasn’t dignified – he was sprawled out on the ground in a towel but Din had little sympathy for him. He holstered the gun and kneeled down to lift the limp body over his now aching shoulder with a grunt. 

He had to get him to the drop off point before he woke up again. He was obviously going to be a problem for Din when he was conscious. 

The Manager caught up with a couple of security guards in tow just in case there was more trouble. Once outside and near the bike, Din reached into the saddlebags. He pulled out some restraints, heavy leather ones that he could tighten so the quarry wouldn’t move. 

Luca frowned and cocked his head to the side. “Those look remarkably like bondage restraints, Mando.”

“They are,” Din said with a shrug, "they work.”

“Trust me, _I know_.” 

Din looked at him from behind the visor for a moment and then shook off the comment. He got to work preparing. The only downside to doing bounties on the bike was transporting them to a dropoff spot. He had to literally strap the bounties to him to keep them from falling off or throwing him off balance. 

“So,” Luca said, “do you come to Canto Bight often?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“You could stay in town another night,” the man suggested, “we could get dinner.” 

Din paused in his movements. Was he? The look on the other man’s face was a cheeky little smile, and Din immediately felt flush. _He was_. It’s not like he wasn’t used to flirting but sometimes if he wasn’t expecting it, the attention made him feel like an exposed nerve. It’s not like he didn’t like it, in fact, he was incredibly flattered.

“It’s a nice offer,” Din said gently, “but I have someone waiting for me.” 

The man’s face didn’t fall, he didn’t take it personally, he just gave a dramatic sigh. “Of course you do.”

Din smiled under the helmet, and it was evident in his voice. “If it doesn’t work out though…I’ll look you up.” 

“Promises, promises,” the other man rolled his eyes with a grin. “Take care of yourself, Mando.” 

After Luca walked off, Din contacted Greef who apologetically informed him that his pick up was going to be put off until tomorrow. There was nothing to be done, the person the Republic had arranged for transportation was running behind. 

Typical of the Republic, really.

Din grunted in frustration but decided it would be best to hunker down in an inn for that night. Definitely somewhere outside of Canto Bight.

He climbed on the bike and strapped the quarry upright against his back. If he looked out of place before, he looked a little ridiculous now with a socialite strapped to his back in only a towel. He reminded himself that the pay for this quarry was very good and it would be worth the hassle. 

As he made his way down the mountain again he picked the last stop before reaching the desert. A small inn offered decent lodgings, just enough for him to rest for the night. He blindfolded the still unconscious quarry and set him on a chair. With his identity protected he made his way towards the bathroom.

He had seen you just before he left. A small picnic outside of the Covert with Junior, but you were stuck on his mind. The two of you hadn’t had a moment alone since after D’Qar, only small kisses in greeting that he still wasn’t really used to. 

The showers at the inn ran hot and he was grateful for it when he stepped in and some steam started to rise in the room. He let the hot water wash some of the sweat off of him, but when he closed his eyes under the spray of the water all he could imagine was you gasping and begging beneath him and his cock twitched between his legs. He reached down to grab himself, a little rough about it.

This was not an unusual circumstance for him. There had been more shame with it before he really knew you, thinking about a target’s younger sister while wrapping a hand around his cock just felt wrong.

  
But it was different now. He had felt the eager way you pressed into him when he had you pinned, a maddening preview of what you’d be like naked and wanting for him. You had grinded down on his thigh, chasing friction. Din took a deep breath as he palmed his erection in the shower, leaning on the still cool tile. 

Those noises you made were so breathless and needy. 

With the steam, he could imagine himself in place of his quarry back at that resort. You and him in a quiet room all alone where he could hear every sound you made. The steam and heat would have made him loose and relaxed. You would slide between his knees on the ground, taking him in your hand – cupping his balls with one hand and stroking his cock a few times with the other. Din grunted as he dragged his own hand up and down, the water giving just enough slickness for him to grip a little harder but not enough that the friction was lost. 

When he imagined you opening your mouth and dragging your tongue over him he knew he wouldn’t last long. That was fine, he was working technically, but the fight from earlier and the hold up with the drop off had him wound uptight. 

So he let himself think of you wrapping your mouth around his cock, warm and wet and maybe a tight fit when you pushed him far enough to hit the back of your throat. You would whine and gag and look up at him with beautiful eyes and – 

He choked down on a groan when he came suddenly. The water from the shower washed away any sign that he had been there doing that. He caught his breath for a moment and lamented that while it did do something – he felt less tense – it wasn’t _satisfying_. Imagining it just wasn’t enough anymore. 

He really wanted to get back home. 

* * *

Syala’s kitchen felt smaller than usual as the two of you bustled around each other to make enough cake for a horde of children. Luckily those children were all outside where the front of the house was sparsely decorated. Paz was keeping them entertained while the food was on its way and the cake was prepared. 

It was Lysa’s sixth birthday and celebrations were underway. Junior was in a playpen with Jido just in sight of the two of you in the kitchen, and you were covered in cake mix and icing. It was hot in there and you were getting a little overwhelmed with the task at hand. 

“We should have just bought it,” you insisted, “it isn’t too late, I can go buy some cake.”

“It is my daughter’s birthday,” Syala said, “and I will make her and all her little friends cake.”

“Okay,” you sighed. 

“Go outside, take a breather,” Syala said. “Send Lysa in for a minute.” 

You took the opportunity to leave the hot room, checking on the little boys. Junior looked up at you and tried to hand you the little stuffed frog in his hand. 

“I’ll be right back.”

When you stepped outside the air was cooler but it was no less hectic. You spotted Lysa and scooped her up, telling her that her mom needed her for a moment before you dropped her off at the door. 

There was no sign that Din was there yet, but you peered into the warehouse full of bikes just to make sure you didn’t see the Razor Crest. There was rumbling and the gate began to open, but it was just another Mandalorian arriving with the food you had ordered for all the kids. 

“He’ll be back before we even have cake,” it was Paz who said it, coming over and catching his breath from playing games with all the kids. 

You weren’t sure how to talk to Paz yet so you just nodded your head. “You’re really good with them,” you looked over at all the kids.

“Surprised?”

“No,” you said quickly. “I was just… making an observation.”

“When the Empire came and destroyed Mandalore,” he said, “we lost most of our people. The Mandalorians only survive if we value the future of our young ones – found and descended.” 

It was like he recited it from somewhere. A little different than the way he would normally speak but with just as much conviction. 

“All I’m hearing is that you’re a giant softy,” you said. 

He laughed a little. “If caring for the children is soft, then that’s what I am.” 

There was another rumble of pipes and you looked over to see the silver glint of a bike and the reflective helmet that was unmistakably Din. 

He saw you out there waiting for him, and he parked the bike as fast as he could. What he needed was to clean up and change so he could join in like he promised Syala, but he wanted to see you. He bypassed his own home to walk up to you, but you couldn’t see the smile he had on behind the helmet. 

“Hey,” you said.

“Hi.” He replied.

“It’s good to see you.”

“You too.” He wiped his hands in his jeans. “I have to go clean up.” 

You nodded your head, “I’ll be here.”

* * *

There were a few rings over the line. Lysa sat up straight when it finally clicked. 

“Daddy?” she asked before he could even say hello.

There was a pause. “Lysa? Is that you?”

“Yes!” She said excitedly. “It’s me, Mom said you wanted to talk to me.”

Another pause. “Of course I do, it’s your birthday.” He sounded a little funny to her, but she was glad to hear his voice. “Are you having a good time?”

“Yeah,” Lysa said. “Auntie is here and soon Junior’s dad will be here. Then we’ll eat pizza and have cake. They made a lot, so all of us can have some.”

“Your auntie is there?” 

“Yes! She brought me a brand new pot for our plants — it’s not painted yet so me and Nessa are gonna make it blue.” 

“Oh, that’s great,” he said. “If you tell me where you’re at, I can come by to wish you a happy birthday too.”

Lysa stopped and frowned a little, playing with a loose string on her dress. Paz had got it for her birthday, but she had ripped it playing outside earlier that day. 

“I’m not supposed to,” she said. “Mom says the Mandos don’t want you to know.”

“The Mandos?”

Lysa bunched up the fabric of the dress in her fist. Oh no. 

“Sweetie, is that where you are? With the Mandalorians?”

She gasped and pressed the big red button at the bottom of the phone’s screen. There was a rush of panic as tears stung at her eyes. What was she gonna do? Slowly she slid off of the bed and crawled underneath it. 

It felt like she was down there forever, but she tried to be quiet until she stopped crying. It was an accident. But if her mom found out she had told him, she would be in so much trouble. Paz might get mad at her too. She had just wanted to talk to her dad. 

“Lysa!” She heard her mother call her name a few times but she stayed quiet under the bed. 

It wasn’t long before she saw her mom’s shoes from under the bed and soon enough she was kneeling down to peek under. “What are you doing down here?” 

Lysa hid her face in her hands.

“Come out, baby, please,” she reached out and gently coaxed her until she crawled from underneath the bed and into her lap. “Did he pick up?”

A nod. 

“What happened?”

A shrug. 

Syala sighed as she held the girl close to her, gently rubbing Lysa’s back while she cried. It was a bad idea. She knew it before she handed over the phone. But it was Lysa’s _birthday_ she just wanted to give her a chance to say hello to her father.

Wiping the tears from Lysa’s face, she gave her a kiss on the forehead. 

This was all confusing and scary for the kids – Nessa was still adjusting and Jido was young enough he barely noticed a difference but Lysa was sensitive. All Syala had wanted to do was give her a moment to talk to her father. She should have known Tycho would find a way to ruin it.

After a few moments the girl calmed down, they cleaned up together, and then two of them walked back out to party hand in hand.

* * *

Once the cakes were baked and frosted, and all the kids had eaten a slice, Syala and you could finally enjoy the gathering. It was later than usual but most of the kids were still burning off the energy the sugar had given them. Lysa had been quiet while everyone sang her happy birthday, but now she seemed okay running around with Nessa and some of the other kids. Paz and Syala were speaking with some other people from the Covert you weren’t familiar with. You sipped on some wine and hung back, watching it all. 

Din had taken Junior inside to change him and when he came back out he came to sit next to you. The moment he had seen Din return he had demanded he be held by his father – and so far had not wanted to leave. He looked a little sleepy but was content with watching the kids run around and play without him for a while. 

“How was your bounty?” You asked.

Din snorted. “A little ridiculous.” 

“Tell me about it.”

Din told you the story, leaving out some of the gory details. You laughed at the visual of a naked man strapped to Din’s back on the bike. Nothing eventful had happened with you, really. The shop was fine, Tycho was in and out for work and the birthday party was mostly what you had been looking forward to. 

When you had arrived and Lysa showed off her new dress, twirling and exclaiming that Paz had gotten it for her, you wondered if this was the new normal. Would the kids’ birthdays all be spent in the Covert? 

“What is it?” Din asked.

“Just thinking,” you shrugged. “Never seen a Mandalorian birthday party before.”

“We don’t really celebrate much,” he shrugged. 

“And when is Junior’s birthday?”

“I don’t know,” he said. 

You shrugged, “why don’t you just pick a day?”

Din raised his eyebrows. “Maybe I will.” 

The boy in question was chewing on the frog now, his head lolled back against Din’s chest as his eyelids drooped further and further down. When Junior fell asleep he was out for the night, a small blessing for Din. He missed him on his hunt so having him in his arms was comfort, and he couldn’t stop thinking about the way you had looked greeting him when he got back. It was something he could get very used to. 

You were here now, and he remembered how badly he had wanted you just the day before. Alone in the shower thinking of your mouth on his – 

“You should stay the night,” he blurted out. 

You were taken back by the suddenness of it and if you were honest you hadn’t really prepared to be there overnight. 

“My brother has my car, so Syala drove me here,” you said, “you gonna give me a ride home tomorrow?”

He nodded. 

“Okay,” you said, your voice casual but inside you were suddenly blooming with heat. 

It seemed the rest of the night took forever to pass, but eventually, the kids started to get tired. Adults guided yawning and slouched little ones back to their homes. You helped Syala clean the worst of the mess. She seemed off but you boiled it down to a very hectic day. 

“You wanna crash on the couch?” She asked when you were done. “I really don’t have it in me to drive.”

“I think I’m gonna head to Din’s, actually,” you tried to be blasé about it but when you looked over she was smirking. 

“Do you have condoms?”

“Why? Do you and Paz have extras,” you asked plainly.

Syala gaped at you and then turned away to hide how flustered she felt. 

You laughed a little before you grabbed the purse you had brought with you and said goodnight to your nieces and nephew. Din hung back and waited, Junior, sleeping soundly in his arms. His little home was in the same area, and it only took you a few minutes to get to the door. 

Once he led you inside he went to put Junior in his bed and you looked around. It was the exact same layout as Syala’s home, but where she had put some of her things around to make it homey — his was lacking. There were no pictures or decorations. There were a few toys littered here and there but nothing of Din’s. 

“It’s not much,” you heard him say.

When you turned he was standing in the hallway, leaning gently on the wall. He looked almost bashful about it. 

“Do you have something against interior design?” 

He laughed softly. 

Now that you two were there, it was almost as if you forgot how to do this. Anticipation was thick in the air and you felt restless with it. He was right there and he must have wanted to have you alone, but you both seemed to be waiting for the other to do something. 

“I thought about you,” he said, a small frown on his face as he looked at his boots, “out on the road.” 

It made you smile, you couldn’t deny that it made your stomach flip. “You did?”

He nodded before he looked back up at you. 

“What’d you think about?”

Now that was a question he wasn’t sure he could answer. It was probably too obscene to tell you he made himself come while thinking about you with his cock in your mouth. Instead, he made his way across the small space of the living room and put his hands tentatively on your waist. 

Well, if he wasn’t going to answer you could think of something better to do than talking. 

You kissed him this time, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your body closer to his. It didn’t take him long to respond, his brow furrowed as he melted into you and the grip he had on you got a little bit tighter. 

The kiss ignited you both, whatever uncertainty about what was going to happen dissipated as you tried to pull him in as close as you could. You wanted him so badly. That night he had pressed you against your car had been seared into your brain and you just had to know what it was going to be like uninterrupted. 

Din felt your hands moving from his hair to his shoulders, down his chest, and to the hem of his shirt. He shouldn’t have been so excited by it but he was giving out barely there groans. When your hands slipped underneath his shirt he didn’t gasp but his body went a little rigid and he started to breathe heavily against your lips. 

Gently, you raised his shirt with your hands until he finally lifted his arms from you to take it off. The skin of his chest was covered in various scars. On one shoulder had a solid blue and purple mark, yellowing out at the edges – a fresh bruise. 

While you knew in the back of your mind he lived a far more dangerous life than you did, it occurred to you that he had just been out hunting. He had received that bruise bringing someone in, and you knew it could have been worse – the scars attested to that – but the story of the bounty you had laughed about with him earlier could have turned out much darker. 

A feeling settled in your stomach that you couldn’t identify just yet. 

You gently traced a few of the scars, taking in the dark hair also covering his chest and the further down you went there was a trail leading from his belly button to below his belt. And clipped to his belt was a holster, and inside of that holster was a very real gun. 

Your breath hitched and you knew it was a little wrong that seeing it excited you more. Especially when he let you start to push him towards the small couch at the center of the room. He fell back into it, lacking any grace in the movement, and there you stood above him just between his legs. He was dangerous and he was letting you lead him around while he looked up at you in slight awe.

You lifted your own shirt above your head and discarded it off to the side. You climbed onto his lap and he was kissing you again, pulling you as close to him as he could. The fabric of your bra kept him from feeling your tits pressed against him but it was more than he could have asked for. You were so fucking soft no matter where he touched you. 

You rolled your hips when his tongue slipped into your mouth. The same teasing bulge from before was obvious in his lap, and you were in the perfect position to grind against him. Soft noises escaped you as the friction on your clit was just enough to send a dull electric tingle down your spine but not enough to get you where you wanted. 

His hands slid up your back and a few moments later the straps of your bra fell loosely down your shoulders – now unclasped, you pulled it off. Din broke away from the kiss to take you in, his tongue sliding across his already wet lower lip before he took your tits in hand. 

He wasn’t sure how it was possible but they were somehow softer than the rest of you, and he ran his thumbs over the flesh of your nipples, watching them begin to harden. You gasped when he pressed his mouth over one, sucking before he ran his tongue over it. Your hips ground down against the rigidness of his cock confined to his jeans and he groaned against your skin at the pressure before moving onto your other nipple. 

Writhing against him on the couch while he took you in was distracting for a moment until you got frustrated with the fact that the dry humping wasn’t going to get you off. You had to know what his cock looked like – had to feel him inside of you for the first time. 

Unbuckling his belt while you were on top of him was complicated but you eventually got it undone and moved unto unbuttoning his jeans before gently sliding the zipper down. Lifting yourself up to support yourself on your knees while he shimmied out of the jeans, you started to remove your own pants. 

It was hasty and frantic, the two of you just trying to finish removing what clothes were left so you could get back to each other. He pulled you back into his lap, but you settled farther back to look at him. His cock dripped precum from the head, a somewhat unruly tangle of hair at the base of him showing exactly where that happy trail had led to. 

You brought your thumb over the tip moving some of the wetness around and he made a choked-off sound, his head tipping back against the couch. He was thick and you felt a momentary uncertainty about the logistics of him fitting inside of you. 

His hands were on your thighs, his grip on them flexing as he kept worrying he was squeezing too hard and he forced himself to loosen his grip. Your hand wrapped around him and you gave an experimental movement, gripping just a little bit as you slid your hand over the skin. You could feel it pulse in your hand and you swallowed hard. 

“Fuck,” he grunted. “ _Fuck_.”

Moving his hands to your hips he pulled you so you were more upright on your knees, no longer settling your ass on his legs. Calloused fingers slid through your folds, two of them framing your clit as he dipped further and further until he felt how fucking wet you were. Your entrance fluttered at the teasing touch. A sharp gasp filled the room when he brought his attention back to your clit. 

He circled his finger over it, and your hand stilled around his cock. Trying out different pressures and movements, he watched you with an intensity you felt might eventually burn through your skin. When he found a rhythm you grew more desperate – hips rolling and a crease in your brow as you steadily built up towards the feeling. 

You had chased it after that first date, in the privacy of your bed trying to be quiet and imagining what his fingers would feel like instead of your own. This was so much better than that, you weren’t sure if it was anticipation but he was getting you there faster than you could really process. 

When you tipped over the edge, you let out a small shuddering sound and your shoulders collapsed in a little. He immediately slipped two fingers inside of you, feeling your walls flutter around him while he ground his palm against your clit to help you ride it out. He used his fingers to fuck you through it and all he could think about was you were going to feel around his cock. 

After you finally came down, your eyes twinkled with a smile on your face as you gave a gentle little laugh. It was the only time he never worried that a giggle in bed was at him, but because of the rush of feeling so good and he smiled with you. You kissed him again, this one less urgent and more gentle as you guided your hips over him, his cock still in your hand so you could line him up. 

“Are you –” he asked.

“I’m safe,” you whispered. “You?”

He nodded.

When you lowered down a little there was the blunt press of his head against your hole and you swallowed hard again. You were wet, and wanted it – but it would have been a lie to say you weren’t intimidated by his size. Slowly you lowered yourself down until the tip was fully enveloped. Din’s jaw went a little slack and as he watched himself begin to disappear inside of you. 

“I gotta take it slow,” you told him gently, eyes closed in concentration. You needed to relax. 

His head snapped up and even though his chest heaved with each breath and a thin sheen of sweat covered him, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, “you’re just…big.”

There was an instinctual reaction to disagree with you, but his blood had evacuated his brain. He just let you ease yourself down on him, jaw clenched and thighs twitching as he kept his hips from bucking upward. 

You were just so perfect and it felt so fucking good - he thought he was gonna burst at the seams. It was a change of pace from the desperate way you two had climbed all over each other before, but it was nice. While you adjusted and started to feel the sinful way the stretch made your skin tingle, his hands came up to your face. Fingers gently tracing over your cheekbones and then down over your neck. It was just so intimate and soft while you’re trying to squeeze him inside you for the first time. 

You figured fucking a Mandalorian, this Mandalorian specifically, would be an adventure – exhilarating in the sense that they had a ‘wrong side of the tracks’ forbiddenness about them but you thought he might actually ruin you. There’s just something about the restrained way he kept from moving too fast – the gentility in the way he touched you but hiding behind it was a hunger that you could see him fighting. 

What would it be like to have him just let go and give in? 

When you finally had him all the way inside of you, he tipped you forward to rest your forehead against his. His breath fanned across your face before he kissed you, and your fingernails dug into the skin on his shoulders. 

“Y-you feel so good,” he stuttered out, his lips barely detached from yours. “Knew you would.”

It made goosebumps rise all over your skin. 

Slowly you lifted yourself and gave an experimental roll of your hips down. For a moment you were afraid you moaned too loud, there was still a sleeping kid in the house, but you just did it again and got a better handle on your volume. Din grabbed hold of your ass, helping you move up and down on him as you picked up the pace, the drag of your walls over him making his jaw go slack again. 

The sounds you made were incredible to him, the way you closed your eyes against the onslaught of feelings and fluttered your eyes open to look at him made him feel like he wanted to give you everything he owned which wasn’t much but he’d let you have it all. He wants to hear you say his name, wants to feel you come apart around him – there’s so much that he wants. 

At some point the feelings got to be too much – you collapsed against him, your hands tangling in his hair and tugging at the base of his scalp. It was less friction for him with you two pressed so close and your body just writhing against him but he held you tight. You smelled too good, your skin tasted amazing when he sucked on your shoulder, you felt so good in his hands and arms – he’d be content to let you grind there against him for the rest of the night.

But the proximity put enough pressure on your clit to make your breath hitch and your body climb up again, only heightened by the way he felt inside of you. You were desperately chasing the high, shamelessly grinding yourself against him until you reached it and he watched as you started to come. He has to close his own eyes at the sensation of your cunt fluttering around him, gripping and dizzying. 

You made it through the first couple of waves of your orgasm before he grunted and suddenly you were toppling over onto your back on the couch. He was above you, quickly rearranging your legs without slipping out of you and then _thrusting._

A small hint of that same hunger you saw earlier. He was conscious of what he was doing and he couldn’t help but pound his cock in and out of you a little harder than before, but he was sure not to grab or squeeze or push too hard. He can feel his balls tightening, his cock twitching as he watched you beneath him while he fucked you through another orgasm. 

He muttered a curse under his breath before he went rigid above you and in a rush, he pulled out, just in time to spill and as his cum covered your stomach. Some of it jetted far enough to land between your tits and at the tail end of it some dribbles onto your mound. He was desperately kissing you, pressing close so that his cum smeared between your bodies, and when he broke away he was panting for breath. 

He stayed there for a while, and you wrapped your arms around him, grateful for the affection as much as you were for the orgasms. After a little while of just catching your breath on the couch, he lifted himself up and muttered about towels before he disappeared into the bathroom. He was wiping his own stomach off when he came back and knelt next to you. 

You were a little surprised when he started cleaning you off as well. Wiping the mess from between your breasts, your stomach and gently wiping between your legs. 

“Are you okay?” He asks for the second time that night.

You nodded your head with a grin. 

“Good,” he said, and then stood up again, holding out his hand to help you up. “Come to bed and so I can fuck you again.”

* * *

You woke up bleary-eyed, tangled up with Din in a too-small bed. He was fast asleep still, shirtless and looking remarkably peaceful. No furrow in his brow or worried expression. It was a nice sight. 

When you rolled over to get out of bed and pee there was a lingering soreness that made you smile. You were still tired — the sun was bright and it was a habit for you to wake up in order to open the store at a decent time. 

You stood up and moved toward the door and stopped. In the doorway was Junior, face expressionless with those massive brown eyes staring up at you. 

He was a toddler, and in no way aware of what you did but… you suddenly felt like he was judging you as you stood there in Din’s discarded shirt from the night before. _Only_ his shirt. 

“Good morning,” you said softly. 

He gave you a toothy smile and ran for the bed. When he struggled to climb up you gave him a boost. He crawled over the covers and threw himself on Din’s stomach who awoke with an ‘umph’ sound from the sudden weight. It made you giggle, only furthering your amusement when he confusedly looked at Junior and then to you. 

You slipped away to the living room, grabbing clothes that had been discarded the night before then going to the bathroom. Wearing nothing but your boyfriend’s shirt (could you call him that now?) seemed a little uncomfortable with a kid around who you didn’t know that well. 

When you came out you could hear muttering and the clanking of pans. Din was slowly starting to make breakfast with one hand, Junior balanced in the other arm. It felt almost too intimate for you to be there, and you were flooded with uncertainty. 

Junior looked over and squealed happily. Din turned to see you waiting there fully dressed. He stared at you for a while, something happening in his head that you couldn’t figure out. 

“Can you…” he faltered. “Can you hold him for me?”

“Oh,” you said, brightly, “yeah of course.”

You came forward and took Junior into your arms. The kid accepted it, he normally didn’t mind being carried by anyone he met — he was a sociable kid even if he wasn’t verbal yet. Din watched, swallowing hard at the sight of you taking him into the other room. There was no way you could have known the significance of what he had just asked. You were just so casually bouncing him in your arm, he had to remind himself you didn’t know how Mandalorian family dynamics worked.

A moment of doubt clouded over him, and while he cooked enough breakfast for three instead of two he wondered if he should go back in and grab the baby. But then he heard a peal of laughter from Junior, and you were laughing too. 

Allowing someone to carry your small children was a huge gesture of trust to the Mandalorians. He had made the right choice.

* * *

You had a helmet this time, thankfully. Din could pick up speed and be a little less cautious than he had been before when he had you on the bike. A few days ago he’d had a naked unconscious weapons dealer strapped to his back and you were definitely more appealing to have behind him. 

The two of you weren’t really thinking about the consequences. After your night together there was a sort of rose-colored shade over your eyes, giddiness about new beginnings. Breakfast had been great with Junior finally warming up to you a little bit. 

You completely forgot about your brother. Until you pulled into the back alley of the shop and he was taking out the trash. 

He watched as you climbed off of the bike, wearing the same clothes you had on the day before. 

“What the fuck?”

“Oh, shit,” you murmured. “Tycho —“

“Get him away from me!” Tycho yelled as he headed back into the store, you and Din both followed him in. 

“He’s not going to hurt you, Tycho.”

“Yes, he is!”

“Tycho, please.”

“Get out,” Tycho said to Din now. 

Din’s posture hadn’t changed and behind the helmet, his expression wasn’t determinable but to hear your brother make demands of him set you off.

“Do I need to remind you that this is my shop?” You pointed towards the ceiling, “and that’s my fucking apartment?” Your voice rose a little and you had to take a moment to get your temper under control. “I let you stay here because you’re my brother and you need help but you don’t decide who I let into my home.”

“Having him here is gonna put you at risk.”

“Oh, please.” You rolled your eyes.

“This is absurd,” Tycho snarled. “You and Syala have my kids locked up in the compound – 

You were certain he had pieced it together because of your arrival with Din. There was no use lying about it. “Yeah,” you said, “they’re all there and they are safe.”

He was restless and trying to stay as far away from Din as possible. The Mandalorian behind you was a looming figure, one hand on his hip where a holster could be seen and the butt of a gun just barely visible. Seeing your brother like this made you feel awful and you tried to force yourself to calm down – yelling wasn’t going to fix anything, especially not with Tycho. 

Tycho couldn’t understand how you kept your back to him, you hadn’t even turned around — you trusted that Mandalorian more than you trusted your brother. It stung. 

“How long has all of this been going on?” Tycho tried to reign it in, tried to keep his voice calm.

“Syala called me after I gave Mando that money,” you carefully didn’t use his name. 

Din wouldn’t have been angry if you had — he hadn’t exactly told you the rules about using his name. But he was glad that you figured it out for yourself. 

“Just tell me what you did.” You said, “tell me so I can help you fix it, Tycho. They think you’re a threat and I can’t prove them wrong if I don’t know what’s going on.”

“I don’t need your help,” Tycho said stubbornly. 

You stared at him in disbelief. He absolutely did need your help or he wouldn’t have been there. 

“I know you’re in over your head, I’m not stupid. I thought it was just the money but it’s something bigger isn’t it?” You asked again, “ _what did you do_?”

“What have you been telling her?” He yelled at Mando, stepping towards the two of you. 

He came too close, though. Din pulled the pistol out of his holster with sharp speed, stopping the other man in his tracks. You jumped at the sight of it, frozen for a moment at how quickly it appeared.

“Don’t!” It’s all you could blurt out in a panic.

Tycho and Din both stopped. Your brother eyeing the gun and Din’s gloved fist clenching at his side. 

There was a moment where your brother looked at that Mandalorian and you could see something darker than fear in his eyes. Things were getting farther out of his hands than he could manage but his only source of help was you, and you were backing him into a corner.

He rushed up through the door to the stairwell and took the steps up two at a time. There was a moment where you were still trying to process his sudden departure from the room before you rushed to follow him. Din lowered his gun with a sigh before trailing after you. 

He didn’t trust Tycho enough to leave you alone with him when emotions were running so high. 

When you got upstairs, Tycho was throwing what few belongings he still had into an old duffle bag. Rummaging through your things and looking for anything he might have left behind. 

“What are you doing?” You asked.

No response. 

“For fuck’s sake, Tycho, stop it!” You heard an old floorboard creak and knew Din was behind you. “Where are you gonna go?” 

When there was still just angry silence something snapped in you. Your hands began to shake and your face grew hot with boiled over fury. 

None of this was fair. You had opened your doors, taken care of him, and even paid his bills and you took one thing for yourself and he reacted this way. His stubborn pride driving a wedge between you like it always did when you were younger.

No matter how much you helped or gave to him it was never enough.

With no help from him, you built your life into something fulfilling for yourself and he had come around to leech off of it. And now he was just going to run when you didn’t just roll over and let him lie to you. 

It hurt. And he didn’t understand. 

Din and the Mandalorians weren’t the fucking boogeymen they had made them out to be. They weren’t perfect but you both owed them an immense debt for how well they had taken care of your family. 

And Din was, you were convinced, the best among them. 

“GO THEN!” You screamed, “get the fuck out! Go be someone else’s problem!”

Tycho looked like he wanted to scream back but just grabbed his bag after looking at you for a heavy moment and stormed out the door. You heard his heavy footsteps stomp down the stairs followed shortly by the loud crash of some pottery breaking and then the loud slam of the door – the bells above it jingling frantically.

Tears stung at your eyes, and you felt your heart slamming in your chest. You weren’t going to cry, you told yourself that. It had been such a wonderful morning, waking up with Din and having breakfast with him and Junior. 

Now you just wanted to throw things and scream and make a scene. Tycho always did, and for once you wanted to be the one who didn’t have to take the high road.

But you knew you couldn’t — you were the reasonable one, _the responsible one_. You had to clean up the mess. 

You moved past the Mandalorian in your doorway and down the steps to the shop. Tycho had overturned a table on his way out. Some succulent plants, soil, and fragile ceramic pieces were strewn across the floor.

Gently you got to your knees and started collecting shards because you didn’t know what else to do. Your face was hot and wet with tears that had spilled over. In the corner of your eye, somewhat blurry and watery, you saw boots carefully sidestepping some uprooted aeoniums and then his jean-clad leg kneeling into some of the dirt on the ground. 

Din’s large hands started to reach out and help you clean up some of the broken pieces of pottery. 

“Tell me,” you said, your voice wobbly as you held back tears. You refused to look at him.

Din just stared for a moment, tears weren’t exactly his strong suit. He was floundering, not sure if telling you was a good idea because it could upset you more but not sure he could deny you anything that you asked at that moment. The truth was going to come out one way or another, he reasoned, and you deserved to know. 

“He’s a smuggler,” Din said plainly, “for the Hutts.”


	8. Lay it on Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was just easier to be around family, whatever broken pieces of it you had left, and being around Din and Junior was an added bonus. It didn’t solve anything but it made it hurt a little less to not be alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: a wild Karen appears, father talk, divorce, guns, my limited amount of knowledge on how to shoot a gun from my one trip to an indoor shooting range, smutty, oral sex (f recieving), masturbation (m)

You hadn’t seen Tycho in weeks. 

No calls, no messages - nothing. You had even gone to his new job only to find that he hadn’t shown up for the last few weeks of shifts. 

There was a stubborn voice in the back of your mind that argued it wasn’t your problem anymore but after the first few days of him being gone, you did start to worry.

It took you a few days to gather up the courage to go back to the Covert after the big revelation. Especially after Din had explained that the Hutts were a very sore subject for his people. They all knew who your brother really was, and you weren’t sure you could face them now that you had the truth.

But you had to face Syala. If it was possible you felt even more guilt when it came to her. No wonder she had left Tycho and lied to you about why. 

The truth was, as Din told you the same night of your big fight with your brother, that Tycho had given up smuggling when Nessa was born - but when the family started having some financial trouble he went back to his old profession. Syala got scared they fought and when he refused to stop she filed for divorce. After that, she reached out to a friend who she knew had spent some time in shelters. 

When that friend had learned the whole story, she directed Syala to the Mandalorians. Any local shelter would have kicked her and the kids out if they found out about their connection to the Hutts. 

It was more than just needing a place to stay, it was about being protected. 

_“If it weren’t for them I don’t know what we would have done. It’s safe. Until I can get us a place of our own, I feel safe here.”_

No wonder Paz hated you when he first met you. 

When you eventually tore the bandaid off and went back to the Covert you had spent a night with Syala away from the kids. To get the story straight, to figure out how to explain it to the kids, and to find comfort in the fact that now both of you could be honest with each other. It was unspoken, but whatever bond you two had was stronger now than it had ever been before. 

But there was still a hole in your life where your brother had been before. 

Din brought Junior over to your store every once in a while to keep you company. He had put the word out for any sign of Tycho to his contacts around the area. 

He had listened to your concerns, let you curse, and yell when you needed to. What he wouldn’t allow was for you to linger on any guilt about the situation. 

_“This is a mess, I should have just told him. Why did I think that – “_

_“You were doing what you thought was best. Syala and I agreed with you.”_

_“I can’t believe I was so upset with her –”_

_“Cyar’ika,” he grunted. “Stop.”_

Both of you were naked under your blankets, and despite all of the things running through your mind, it was nice to finally have him in your space now that the loft was empty. 

When he left on the bike the next day one of your customers had watched him leave and turned back to you. An older woman, her face turned down into a frown as she regarded you and then the store. 

She turned around and walked out. 

It was not entirely unexpected, but you scoffed and mumbled a comment under your breath anyway. It seemed the rest of the world wised up to your relationship at the same time Tycho had. 

Now when you walked down the street a few of your old shopkeeper friends were polite but distant from you. Not the usual camaraderie you were used to. Even Arlan from the coffee shop had told you to be careful. You had to give him some credit for not writing Din off completely. He had been there the night Din punched someone in the face for insulting you, and you could understand his hesitation. 

But the others were starting to get under your skin. You weren’t ashamed of anything, and you weren’t going to stop seeing Din because of a few judgmental stares. 

Your favorite customers were your saving grace on the days where you felt like snapping at people. They had merely seen a new face hanging around and decided to give you a hard time about it in a good-natured way. Most of them were people you had known for years and have them come around to fondly tell you that you looked quite smitten with Din was a nice change of pace.

* * *

After another slow day that only highlighted how alone you were in your shop and loft, you locked up a little early and grabbed an overnight bag.

It was just easier to be around family, whatever broken pieces of it you had left, and being around Din and Junior was an added bonus. It didn’t solve anything but it made it hurt a little less to not be alone.

You threw your bag into your car, you headed towards the grocery store that was along the way to the Covert. You owed Din something for how much he had just listened to you talk and worry — you could make him and Junior a nice dinner. 

As you pushed a cart through the aisles grabbing what you needed, you were unaware of the eyes following you. By the time you got to the vegetables and were inspecting the quality of some peppers the person watching you was approaching. It was another shopkeeper from your street, an older woman who owned a clothing boutique on the street. She stopped across the piles of veggies. 

“Hello,” you smiled at her. 

The two of you weren’t friends, really, but everyone on your street knew each other. And you two were familiar enough that you could tell she was building up the courage to say something, and judging by the frown on her face it wasn’t going to be anything good. 

“I heard your brother moved out.” 

“He did,” you said, your smile faltering a little. 

“Good.” 

You blinked a few times at that, not sure how to respond, and caught unaware by how bluntly she said it. 

“Those Mandalorians are dangerous too, and we’d all appreciate it if you kept your _business_ with them away from our street.” She said it with so much conviction that you were visibly shocked, but she took it as confusion. “I see that one always leaving the alley behind your store — coming and going at odd hours with that horrendous bike making all that noise —“

“Who comes to my store and when is exactly that, _my business_ ,” you said sharply, “I suggest you stay out of it and focus on selling your tacky skirts.”

With that you walked away, barely registering the look on the woman’s face and forgetting about the peppers you were looking at before. Maybe Syala would have something to use instead. The local grocery store was no place to make a scene no matter how frustrated you were. 

You managed to keep a polite smile with the clerk checking you out, but you kept looking over your shoulder to make sure she wasn’t following you. 

How many times would you have to answer for spending time with Din? Why did it even fucking matter to anyone? 

Coming to the covert gate you said hello to Tait, the one who normally was running security at the gate. He kindly asked how you were doing. These were the Mandalorians that the woman had considered “dangerous.”

Nessa saw your car and knocked on the window as you slowly went by all the kids. You stopped to let her in. She didn’t have the same exuberance you were used to. 

“Are you here to see Din or us?”

“Both.” You said. “Got kinda lonely at my place.” 

“Do you know where my dad is?”

“No,” you said with a sigh. “But we are trying to find him.”

“Why?”

You were unable to answer. Trying to process the way the single word sounded so bitter coming out of the mouth of a child. 

“Him and mom got into a big fight and then he left and now he’s done it again,” Nessa explained herself. “Why do we need to find him?”

“He still owes a lot of money, Ness.” 

“Mom wants that money for a new house,” Nessa said quietly. “We don’t need one. We should just stay here. It’s better.”

From her perspective, you imagined, it was. She had friends, her family was safe and fed. Beyond the view of the ten-year-old, the reality was that Syala was still struggling. She was living within walls where someone else’s rules dictated parts of her life, handling divorce and trying to figure out what her future held for her family. 

But Nessa was still young and the Mandalorians had shown up where her father hadn’t. You could hardly blame her for being upset with him and looking to anyone else to fill the void he left. 

“He’s lost,” you said gently.

“I know. We can’t find him.”

“No, I mean he’s just lost his way,” you looked at her, “he loves us, but he doesn’t know what to do. He thinks his way is the only way.”

There was a long pause, the two of you were parked in front of Syala’s tiny home. Not wanting to go out and break the moment or pretend you two weren’t talking about Tycho in front of her mother. 

“I’m still mad at him.” She said her voice cracking a little. 

“I know,” you said, “me too.”

Nessa wiped at her eyes, and asked, “can we sit in here for a little bit?”

“Of course,” you reached out and wiped a stray tear from her face. “We can sit as long as you want.”

* * *

Junior was having a good day, but he was being very needy. Din had noticed that being in Syala’s house was stressing him out a little. Tycho’s disappearance was making everyone nervous in one way or another and it was like Junior was a sponge for all that energy. 

If Din put him down for more than a few minutes he was met with big watering eyes and upset whines. His only solution was to let him run around away from the house for a while. The Covert kids were surprisingly gentle with Junior, and he liked to just run around with them even if he was too young to really participate in any games. 

When he left his home to go find the always roaming horde of children, he saw your car out in front of Syala’s. He immediately approached but the closer he got he noticed Nessa in the passenger seat, her feet resting on the chair and her knees drawn up close as she held herself in a tight ball. You looked over and shook your head a little bit, and he nodded before going on his way to find the kids again. 

He found the kids playing around the warehouse again and they all loudly greeted the two of them. He sat himself down with Junior on the side. The little boy’s interest was caught, and he watched them all run around before he worked up the courage to wiggle out of Din’s grip and toddle towards the crowd. Din stayed in his spot, just in case he needed to look back and find him there. 

After a little while, Junior stopped looking over his shoulder, and he ran around after the bigger kids. A ball rolled away from one of them and Junior chased after it, but before Din could even worry about him wandering off too far he saw you stop it in its tracks and roll it back to him. 

You knelt onto the dirt and gave Junior a kiss on the head before grabbing his hand and leading him back to the group. Once he was close enough for comfort you kept walking towards Din and said a soft hello before you plopped down next to him. 

“I brought stuff for dinner,” you said, “I just put it in the kitchen.”

“Thank you,” he said. “Is Nessa okay?”

“She’s upset,” you said. “I think all of us are.”

“He’ll turn up.”

“I’m just worried about what state he’ll turn up in,” you said blandly. You shook your head, “enough about him. Talk to me.”

“About what?”

“Anything but my brother,” you said.

He told you about his day so far, how Junior was stuck to his side all day. The Razor Crest needed repair work (again) but he needed someone to watch Junior while it was in the shop since he couldn’t yet bring him with him on rides. You offered to watch him, the shop was too quiet anyway. 

Din felt less and less foolish just saying things as he thought them and you were grateful to be distracted for a while. Junior eventually toddled back over and threw himself into your lap rather than Din’s. It was surprising, but you hoisted him up in your arms and the three of you started to make your way back to the house. 

Paz was leaving Syala’s doorway when you passed by and although you greeted him, he stopped and stared at the three of you for a while. Din was hyper-aware of it – and stared down the other Mandalorian until you were all out of sight. 

“Is he angry with me about Tycho?” you asked. It had been slow work to get Paz to even make polite conversation with you. You were afraid that you would go back to square one.

“No,” Din said as he opened up the door to his home. “You’re carrying Junior, he probably wasn’t expecting it.”

You stopped in the doorway. “Am I not supposed to be holding him?”

“I gave you permission,” he said. “Children are…sacred. You only let someone hold your ik’aad if you truly trust them.”

You stared at him for a moment. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“I just did.”

You rolled your eyes at him and took Junior towards the bathroom so you could wipe some of the dirt off of his face before taking off his little shoes and setting him down in his bed. 

Except he clung to you with a surprisingly strong grip and fussed every time you tried to remove him. With a little sigh, you sat down on the bed and just cradled him in your arms. He quietly played with the collar of your shirt or patted at your face until he realized you weren’t going to play with him and after that, he rested his head down on your chest. 

There was something so sweet about the way he let you hold him like that like he felt safe in your arms. Of course, you wanted him to like you. He was a sweet kid, and his dad occupied your mind most of the time but it sort of really occurred to you then that if you and Din really pursued something serious together that you would also play a role in raising Junior.

Once he fell asleep and it was as if you physically felt the fondness for him grow in your chest.

So caught up in your thoughts and feelings for the little boy in your arms, you didn’t notice Din in the doorway. Leaning against the wall and frowning a little bit. It was something, seeing the two of you so peaceful together – it felt a little like a dream. But then the old demons reared their head, telling him this kind of peace was not meant for a man like him.

It had been a constant struggle since he took Junior in, wondering if this was a huge mistake and he should have let someone else take on caring for such a young foundling. Hell, he knew Paz would have been a better fit for fatherhood and it happened so suddenly that he was sure someone else would have volunteered. 

At the beginning he liked the kid, there wasn’t a reason not to, but parenthood was not supposed to be a thing for him. And sure, he would have been sad to see the kid go because while the two of them were on the run he had really started to love the little ankle-biter, but maybe it would have been better if someone else had taken him in. 

But the Armorer had insisted. And now there you were with him and Junior.

Before him was the foundations of a family, and he felt a little foolish that the idea came to him so early on but it was right there in front of him, and he couldn’t help but think of it. It looked like that was right there where you belonged, with him and the kid.

You were strong and capable of looking after yourself but you were still from a completely different world. Especially with Tycho being so closely tied to such a terrible group like the Hutts, he wondered if you being with him also painted a target on your back. 

At least he knew Junior was safe within the walls of the Covert if he couldn’t be with him. He didn’t have that comfort with you.

“You should stay here,” Din said softly. 

“What?” You asked, shocked but keeping your voice low.

“Until we can figure out what to do about your brother,” he said. 

You didn’t say anything, just shifted so you could lay Junior down in his bed. You smoothed some of his hair away from his face and headed toward the door. You slipped by Din and headed into the living room and he glanced back at Junior before he followed after you. The silence was tense and he tried to figure out what he might have said that could have been wrong. 

“It doesn’t have to be here, with me,” he said suddenly. “Just in the Covert.”

“I still have to run the shop,” you said, not looking at him. “I can’t just close up and hide out here for who knows how long. I’m not letting him take that away from me.”

“The Hutts are dangerous,” he said. “They have no code. They only want money and power and will do whatever it takes to keep it.”

“And me and my little flower shop don’t pose a risk to that,” you insisted. “They don’t have a reason to come after me.”

That didn’t comfort him much. But there was no reason to scare you, even if he was running over a thousand different scenarios in which you were not safe. He couldn’t force you to stay in the Covert, and he couldn’t spend all his time guarding you at your shop. 

“We’ll get you something to protect yourself with,” he said. “I can teach you how to use it.”

“I have a baseball bat,” you said with a smile, “don’t need special warrior training for that.”

“You need a gun.”

“No,” you waved him off. “Absolutely not.”

He said your name, a firm tone that made you look back at him. He was incredibly serious, his mouth set into a tight line and his brows furrowed as he pinned you down with a stare. “Please.” 

You sighed and shook your head. “Fine.”

Din nodded his head and disappeared down the hallway to his room, you set about starting to cook. His worry was sweet in a way, but you were a little more nervous about having a weapon in your possession than you were about any Hutts bothering you. Nevarro was strictly Mandalorian territory, it would take some serious manpower for them to threaten you in town. 

After a few moments, Din returned while you were busy cutting up some meat, and you heard him moving around behind you. When you turned around he was setting guns on the table, most of them compact handguns that you could easily fit in a purse or under the cash register at the shop. When you looked back up he was staring at you. 

“Pick one.”

“What?”

“Pick one, we’ll start after dinner.”

“Din,” you said warningly. 

A blank and serious stare was all you were met with. 

You sighed and headed toward the table looking at all of them laid out in front of you. The number of things you knew about guns was pretty low. You knew they were deadly and came in different sizes, but that was about it. You stared at them and simply pointed to the least intimidating looking one. Black in color and very small with a chunky barrel that made up most of its shape. 

Din’s eyebrows raised a little bit as he nodded. “Good choice.”

“Why?”

“Easy to conceal, simple to use – it’s a long pull so you’re not likely to accidentally fire.” 

He talked about it the way he did about the bike. Knowledgeable, of course, but damn near reverent as well. 

“How many guns are in this house right now?” You asked him.

He stared at you a long moment then said, “weapons are part of the creed.”

“How many?” 

“A lot.”

You nodded your head. “I’m gonna go cook now.”

He lingered with you in the kitchen for a while and just watched. Eventually, you got him to stop it because it felt a little bit like you were being scrutinized and if he was gonna take up space in the kitchen then he should help or at least talk to keep you company. He laughed when you told him so.

Junior woke up from his nap in time for dinner and there was still a little bit of sunlight after you had all sat together for dinner. It was intimate, and part of you felt a little bit like you were playing house. Comfortable and easy, but somehow you wondered if it was too simple a process for joining a family like this. 

After you all had eaten and cleaned up. Din took you to an area that was very carefully blocked off, and pretty much empty but with some makeshift targets scattered around an open area. The kids were expressly forbidden from going near the area without supervision, and Junior was a little too mobile for Din to trust putting him down so you left him with Nessa and some of the other kids. 

You had never touched a gun before. He showed you the safety, how to work it, and reminded you to never point the thing at anyone unless you intended to shoot them. He flipped the safety so easily to show you how it worked, and you found that you struggled with it. Not because it was hard but because you were handling it like it was gonna blow up at any second. It was a little embarrassing, but he didn’t say anything to make you feel foolish. Just quietly encouraged you. 

Putting the actual bullets in was difficult for you. It required a little bit of force to get them in the barrel and you were still nervous. Once it was all set to shoot, he showed you how to hold it – no fingers on the trigger unless you were ready to shoot. He aimed at a stuffed target made to look like the vague shape of a human and shot off. The sound was loud and sudden and you jumped a little bit, only to look and see a brand new hole in the chest of the target. 

You took in a deep breath. It was hot to see a glimpse of him in action, but also you were a little uncertain about handling the gun yourself.

“There’s gonna be some kickback,” he told you when he handed it over, “two hands, and keep your grip tight but once you pull the trigger take the finger away.”

He stood right behind you, hands-on your upper arms to keep you from losing control after you shot off. Just to make sure you knew what to expect before he let you do it on your own. Din was a solid presence behind you, warm and sturdy and it was a comfort you really needed. Safe, since you were so scared about the weapon in your hand. 

You aimed, closing one eye, and heard behind you. 

“Both eyes open.”

There was a little bit of amusement in his voice. And you were confused at how he knew you had closed one eye when he was behind you and certainly couldn’t see. Might have been a rookie mistake he knew was going to happen. 

“Sorry.” You mumbled.

“Whenever you’re ready.” He said, his grip on your arms tighter. 

You pulled the trigger. It was a little harder than you expected, you had to really think about it and use some force with your pointer finger. It did kick, but not quite what you imagined, Din’s arms kept yours from moving at all but you felt it in your body. The sound was somehow louder when you did it, and you saw the small spark of metal scraping before you felt the case come back and hit you in the forearm. It was hot but it just grazed off your skin and fell to the ground before it could actually hurt you. There was a hole in the target, just the shoulder, but you were flooded with excitement.

“I hit it!” 

It wasn’t that far away, and you probably only landed a shot because he was holding you in place but you still were ecstatic.

“Well done,” he said gently in your ear. If you weren’t thrumming with nervous energy you might have been turned on by it, but for the moment you were riding the high. “Try it by yourself.”

Without his presence behind you, the kick was a lot stronger and your aim was much worse. At some point, a casing flew back and grazed your cheek. The burn was more noticeable on the more sensitive skin, but not terrible. When you looked back at Din, he rubbed at the spot where there was a mark in the same spot with his thumb and you saw that he swallowed a little. 

But you both were doing this for a reason, and so he just kept on with the lesson. You were out there until the sun had gone down – the floodlights keeping your vision clear. By the time you were done your fingers were sore from loading the thing and pulling the trigger. You were no marksman after one day but there was a little bit of improvement.

It was fun and was a little bit of a release from all the frustration of the day. A silly smile was plastered on your face. But you still couldn’t imagine having the thing on you all the time or pointing it at another person. 

The two of you hung out at Syala’s home for a little while after, Lysa was attached to you the whole time while Nessa made a game of chasing around Junior while Jido tried to follow in his jumper. Din was close to you on your other side, arm laid back over the sofa with his fingers occasionally touching your neck or shoulder. That was more affection than he usually felt comfortable giving in the presence of others, he sat close usually but the most contact you ever got was his hand in yours. 

When there was a brief moment of just the adults in the room, Syala leaned in and spoke quietly to the two of you.

“There was a huge check that came in,” she said. “All of the missing months worth of child support. He caught himself up, somehow.”

Din had a feeling he knew exactly how. But he didn’t say anything. 

“That’s good, right?” You said. “Maybe he’ll keep up on the payments.”

Syala shrugged a little. 

“Can you go find a place now?” you asked. “I’ll help, we can go look for somewhere nearby but not in town.”

Syala bit her lip. “For now,” she said, “I don’t want to leave until I know where he is.”

You nodded your head, unable to respond as the kids barreled in again. Screaming and laughing and blissfully unaware of this new development. 

By the time you left Junior was tired out again, the energy he had gained from his nap and dinner spent on playing. Din put him to bed this time while you took a shower, and by the time you left the bathroom in your towel and headed to the bedroom, he was sitting on the bed. On his nightstand was the gun, and some bullets as he inspected it one last time before he was going to give it to you. 

When you went to your bag of clothes in the corner to start digging for some underwear he watched until you fished out some clothes. He stood and walked over, taking them from you and dropping them onto your bag again. 

He had controlled himself before, but seeing you with a weapon and growing more confident with it every time you pulled the trigger had him wanting to fuck you right there on the range.

Now that you two were alone in private, he couldn’t help but grab you and kiss you. Hungry and needy, with no sweet preamble of chaste kisses, his mouth was just hot and open on yours. You grabbed onto the fabric of his shirt and gave him back just as much fervor as he was giving until the two of you were out of breath, lips wet and starting to swell from small bites. Din grabbed the towel and unraveled it, leaving it discarded on the floor.

His hands roamed, as they wanted. Feeling soft skin and grabbing at your ass before coming up to cup your breasts. You felt the loss of his mouth on yours until he started to kiss at your shoulder, quickly escalating to biting and sucking on your neck. When you started to lift the hem of his shirt to get it off of him, he stopped you. 

“Lay down,” he said hoarsely. 

Of course, his hands never left you as you moved the small distance to the bed and sat down, and he pressed down a little on your shoulder to have you lay down. When you did, he immediately got to his knees and spread your legs wide enough that he could get between them. 

He spent more time sucking and biting at your thighs than you expected, but you weren’t going to complain. Your cunt was right there in front of him, and you felt every small sting of pain from his teeth shoot straight to it. Din lifted your legs over his shoulders, spreading you even wider for him, and licked a stripe from your hole to your clit. It made you gasp a little, and so he did it again just to hear you suck in the surprised breath of air. 

The smell and taste was something so inexplicably you that it made his cock twitch in his pants. It was sloppy, almost no discernable ‘technique’ that you could figure out as he ran his tongue over every exposed part of you, building up the pleasure with how earnestly he wanted to taste you. 

It wasn’t until he kept his attention on your clit that he seemed to think of any kind of pattern or rhythm. Flicking his tongue up and down before he sucked and made your hands shot down to grip at his hair. Swirling it one way and then the other so you tugged on the strands in your grip just enough for it to hurt and make him grunt against your cunt. Your hips kept trying to roll and lift off the bed the closer you got, and so finally he wrapped an arm over them to keep you pinned. 

“Din,” you whined out. It felt so good, and you could feel yourself flutter around nothing, the lack of anything inside of you horribly obvious and leaving you wanting. “Keep going – like that – please.”

The praise was enough to make him feel the white-hot burn, but the please at the end did him in. He pulled his arm away so he could use both hands to undo his belt and pants, pulling out his cock and making the angle a little off for a moment. But once he was situated, one hand wrapped around himself and the other going back to keeping you still, he went at it with full focus again.

It took you a moment to process what he had done, you couldn’t exactly see him but he gave a deep and long groan against your pussy. You lifted yourself up to look. Din’s eyes were closed, his hair a mess from you pulling at it, as he pressed his face between your legs. You saw the movement of his arm, where his hand was in his lap as he stroked himself while he ate you out. 

“Oh my fucking god,” you said and plopped flat against the bed. 

He couldn’t say much, too focused on making you come, but he was really getting himself off – turned on by having his tongue buried in your pussy. It was too much, and when he played his tongue over your clit again you made it two strokes before something snapped.

It rolled through you, hips immobilized by his arm pressing down even harder and when he whined in response to your orgasm. You swore you went a little cross-eyed when you heard it. He didn’t let up, only dropped his tongue to your fluttering hole when you jerked violently at the overstimulation on your clit. 

He had every intention to fuck you, wanted to feel the heat of you around him, but he couldn’t seem to pull himself away. Especially not when he turned his attention back to your clit – you were more sensitive now, your moans growing more desperate, so he pulled away for a moment. Your cunt glistened before him, and he felt his own balls tighten at the sight of you. 

No, he had to make you come on his tongue again. Knowing you were getting so much pleasure from it, after the stress you had been under lately, wanting to just live between your thighs after seeing you handle a weapon – that would be more than enough to get him off. He could already anticipate the satisfaction of coming while he tasted you. 

When you came a second time, this time more intense and making you clamp your mouth shut against a very loud moan that threatened to pour out, he grunted when your thighs tightened around his head. You were everywhere, every sense he had was flooded by you and when he lifted his gaze you looked so damn good as you rode it out that he couldn’t help but burst.

He came into his hand, hard and sudden, as he distractedly ran his tongue over you to draw yours out as long as he could. 

Eventually, you pushed his head away, closing your legs and putting a hand out to show you wanted to stop. He ran his clean hand over the top of your thigh, giving you a kiss there and resting his head against the skin as you both caught your breath.

Din used your discarded towel to clean himself up, wiping his face and then his hand. When you sat up to kiss him sweet and soft, you could still taste a hint of yourself on him. His knees ached a little when he stood to change and get ready for bed. He was tired now, ready to crawl in bed and have you there with him as he dozed off. 

Once you two were settled in, with the lights off and only a little light coming in from the window, he watched again as you pressed yourself as close as you could. Despite how tired he was, he laid there for a moment with his eyes closed until he felt your breathing deepen and your body go a little slack as you fell deeply asleep. 

He opened them to see the peaceful look on your face. You looked like you felt safe with him, and he quietly admitted to himself how safe he felt with you too. 

Din was aware of how one-sided this had started. You had always been beautiful and fearless to him, even when you had hated him at first. He had admired you much longer than you had even thought about him as anything more than the bounty hunter that came into your shop one day and made a mess. He was used to being more fond of you than you were of him. 

But with everything he had seen of you now – the way you cared for your family, the way you seemed to just fit with Junior and him. You had become more important to him than he could have anticipated. 

He wasn’t even sure when it happened, but at some point, he had started to look at you and the first thing that came to mind was ‘I love her.’


	9. Creature Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was getting later and later the more you spent time on the phone, finding comfort in the long pauses where you thought you could hear him breathing gently on the other end. Eventually, you had to say goodnight. He had a long ride ahead of him and you had work in the morning. You fell asleep alone in his bed, face buried into a pillow chasing the scent of him that was leftover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: language, guns, graphic violence (a little more graphic than canon I would say), choking (non-sexual), drunk driving, angst, angry yelling.

The bar he was in was a shithole. 

All the chairs were sticky, and he was pretty sure that there was some mold on the wall behind the bartender. Right where the open bottles of liquor were. His burner phone had been vibrating like clockwork for the past two days and every time he felt it go off he felt the strong urge to drink, so he found a hole in the wall bar to do just that. 

Tycho was not sure he could read the messages if he opened them up anyway. Everything was a little blurry and doubled. He leaned against the bartop, letting it help to keep him upright on the stool. The door opened as someone entered, and the blinding light from outside made him cringe before he tried his hardest to focus on the person entering. 

It was no one he knew, and from what he could see they didn’t wear anything that signified their affiliation to any group. They didn’t even look at him, just moved on to a booth where someone else was waiting for them. His guard went down, and he took another long gulp of the drink in front of him – satisfied by the burning trail it made down his throat.

He had to keep moving or someone was gonna catch up to him and he only had so many places to crash. 

Syala had been paid in full, and he hoped that meant at least some of the people looking for him would back off. If he just kept moving then eventually something would have to give and he could hold off until then.

It just constantly felt like the walls were closing in on him from all sides. Mandalorians had been asking about him, the Hutts were looking for him and the word from his last safe house was that the Republic was starting to try and sniff him out as well. 

He was so fucked. 

He had not meant to fall behind on his payments to the Hutts, but it got overwhelming. There had only been so many shipments he could do and now he owed even more money than he had before. The assholes wanted interest on top of all the free work he had been doing to pay them off.

He felt his phone buzz in his pocket again, and he wanted to scream. He took the phone out of his pocket to throw it against the counter when he saw the screen and paused. There was a message from a number he didn’t recognize, and when he opened it there was an image attached that seemed to sober him up a little when he recognized what it was. The words beneath caused a wave of cold fear washed over him. 

**‘You have 24 hours.’**

* * *

You watched as Arlan’s little cousin, Rina, familiarized herself with the layout of the store. She had only been hired a week ago, but she knew her plants already. After finishing school in Nevarro she wanted to go into botany but needed extra cash to help keep her afloat before she went to Lothal for university, and you needed the help around the store so it was a good fit for both of you.

The only thing you had to change was the gun that had been hidden under the cash register. You didn’t want it anywhere near Rina, so you started to keep it in your purse which was never too far away but definitely not where she would need to be looking for anything. 

Your phone buzzed as Din sent you a message. 

**‘Quarry ran. In Jakku now, will be gone until tomorrow. Can you help Sy with Jr?’**

You let out a small disappointed sigh. He was supposed to be home later that evening but Jakku was way far off. He must have been driving all night to chase the quarry. Still, you sort of knew what you were signing up for when you started dating a bounty hunter. You typed out your response.

**‘Of course. Be safe.’**

You could crash at Din’s place with Junior for the night to give Syala a break, but that meant you’d have to pack a bag and buy some food for the two of you. Rina distracted you from your thoughts asking a question about how to work the cash register, so you went back to work. 

“Where’s that Mandalorian who’s always here?” Rina asked after you had shown her how to void an item off the system. 

“He’s a bounty hunter,” you explained, “sometimes he’s out for a few days at a time.” You tapped the counter, “hey, if I teach you how to close up do you think you could manage tomorrow night by yourself?”

Rina smiled confidently, “absolutely.” 

“Thank you,” you said, relieved, “he’s gone for at least another night and I gotta watch the baby.”

“Are you staying in the clubhouse?” she asked excitedly. “What’s it like in there?”

“It’s less of a clubhouse than it is a gated community, honestly,” you told her. “They have almost everything they need in there.”

“That’s so crazy,” she said. “I once saw them do their escort for some kid at my school, he was going to court to testify against his dad. They looked so cool.”

You looked over at her and gave a small smile. “Yeah they do a lot of things like that,” you said. “They even let some people stay there for free if they have nowhere else to go.”

“Arlan said you’re dating him, that Mando,” Rina said. 

“I am,” you laughed. 

“Are you gonna become one?” 

You looked over at her quickly. “I don’t know if you just ‘become’ a Mandalorian,” you said. “There’s probably a lot of rules and trials and things like that.”

“But are you going to?”

“Probably not.” You said honestly. 

Rina had a lot more questions about Mandalorians and then had even more about the plants. You spent most of her shift talking, and she was quite a bit younger than you but it was still nice to have someone to make conversation with in the store. You bought the two of you lunch to eat that day and taught her how to close up the store so she could try doing it herself tomorrow when you left to go care for Junior. 

After her shift, Arlan walked down to pick her up. “How was work today?” 

“Great, she’s doing so well!” You grinned. “She’s gonna close the shop up by herself tomorrow, do you mind coming by so she doesn’t leave alone?” 

“Going to spend the night with your mysterious Mandalorian again?” Arlan teased. 

“He’s out of town for the night so I’m watching the kid,” you said. 

“Aw, aren’t you a great step-mom?”

“Stop it,” you said, trying to be serious but unable to keep from smiling. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

You locked up and turned all of the lights off in the store. Across the street was a black work van, ‘Barada’s Plumbing Service’ painted on the side of it. You wondered what store was having issues and hoped it wasn’t a street-wide thing. The last thing you needed was to pay for any kind of repairs after getting back on track. 

Your car was parked out back, so you made sure to lock that door as well before you left. The trip to the grocery store was hectic since everyone in town seemed to be there and by the time you made the drive to the Covert, it was dark again. It was not Tait at the gate this time but Sola who was a little less friendly with you, but she knew your car and nodded when she let you in. 

Syala’s home was as hectic as ever. Paz was away for a charity ride and would not be back for another day, which meant she was alone with all four kids. When you showed up she looked so relieved and Junior tripped over his own feet running to you. 

“Didn’t quite stick the landing, buddy,” you said once he looked up at you. 

He was fine and seeing that you were not worried, he just lifted himself up to run at you again. It was chaos as you left with Junior to go make him dinner so Syala wouldn’t have to worry about it, and you were grateful for the quiet of Din’s home even if it was a little empty without him there. 

“I hope your dad doesn’t want any more kids for a good long while,” you murmured to the toddler.

It was incredibly domestic, you thought to yourself, to be here alone with Junior and waiting on Din to get home. You weren’t really the stay-at-home parent type, you had a lot of pride in running your business and even wanted to grow it into something bigger one day but you could get used to picking up where Din needed help. 

You’d never been in his home alone for long, but you and Junior had a quiet night together and once he was in bed you were sort of unsure of what to do with the rest of your night. If you were honest, you wanted to snoop around for the hidden cache of weapons you were certain he had but you resisted the temptation. 

It looked like the rest of the night you were going to be alone with your thoughts and whatever shows you could watch from your phone. Din didn’t even have a television, and you wondered what he actually did all the time when he wasn’t working or spending time with you or running around after Junior. 

At about midnight you received a text, and when you looked it was from Din. 

**‘Stopped for the night. You up?’**

**‘Yeah.’**

The moment you hit send the phone started to ring and his name flashed up on the screen. 

“Hey,” you said after accepting the call.

“Hi,” he said quietly. “Thank you for this.”

“It’s not a problem,” you assured him. “He ate his dinner, had a bath, and went to bed. No tantrums or anything.”

“Good,” he said. 

On the other end of the line, he was in a shitty hotel in the middle of nowhere. He had been chasing all night and the trail went cold, so he decided to rest up for the day ahead. If worrying about you while he was only twenty-minutes away at the Covert was bad, he thought this was worse. He was miles away from you and although he did need to have someone relieve Syala from taking care of Junior, he was comforted knowing you were within the walls for the night. 

“I wanted to tell you something,” Din said as he stared at his reflection in the blank television screen in his hotel room. 

“What is it?”

“A Mandalorian from the Coruscant chapter said they saw someone matching Tycho’s description.”

You sat up in bed. “Really? Is he okay?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “We sent out a photo and that’s the info we got back. He knows people are looking for him, and he’s moving around so we can’t get a pin on him for long.” There was a long pause before he said, “now that he doesn’t owe any money it’s hard to justify using any resources to find him. I can keep asking for a little longer, but eventually…we have to stop the search and focus on getting Syala somewhere safe outside the Covert to stay if that’s what she wants.” 

“Yeah,” you said quietly, “of course, that makes sense.” 

He said your name softly.

“I’m fine.” 

You weren’t. But you could hardly argue that he was wrong. Tycho didn’t mean shit to the Mandalorians and you couldn’t ask them to waste their time on him any longer just because you wanted the peace of mind. 

“If he’s on the run, it could mean he’s in trouble.” He said. “He might come back and if he does we’ll figure out what to do.”

He kept saying ‘we’ and you wanted to ask him to stop. This should not have been something he needed to worry about anymore – this was your family’s problems and you were not even sure why you were even giving it any more energy. Tycho had made it clear time and time again that helping him was way more trouble than it was worth. 

“Maybe it’s time I just…let it go,” your voice cracked when you said it and you felt the lump in your throat before the tears welled in your eyes. 

“You don’t have to decide that right now,” he said gently. “M’sorry… didn’t mean to upset you.” 

“It’s okay,” you assured him. “Thank you for being honest with me.”

There was a long silence over the line and then he said. “I miss you both.”

“We miss you,” you said. 

“How’s the new girl coming along?”

You talked about Rina for a little while and then about your day and his. It was getting later and later the more you spent time on the phone, finding comfort in the long pauses where you thought you could hear him breathing gently on the other end. Eventually, you had to say goodnight. He had a long ride ahead of him and you had work in the morning. You fell asleep alone in his bed, face buried into a pillow chasing the scent of him on it to make up for the fact that you couldn’t help but feel alone in the world with Tycho gone. The last one in your family besides his kids who barely claimed him as their own father anymore. 

It was silly since you did have Sy and the kids and now Din and Junior. But part of you wondered if you actually belonged here with them after all the hell Tycho put them through and how you had been unknowingly defending him despite it.

You fell asleep a few hours later, wishing you could call Din just to know he was on the other end of the line. 

* * *

Paz was near Coruscant when the alert came out that Tycho had been spotted. The charity ride was over and he was free to spend time with the other Mandalorians, all of them drinking and sharing stories from the other chapters. 

It had taken serious willpower not to just go hunting for him, but Din was a better Hunter than he was. Coruscant was huge and Paz wasn’t really inconspicuous. He would have been made before he ever got close to the slippery little fucker. 

He wasn’t sure what to do anymore. Syala was safe in the Covert but now that she had some money she was considering leaving to stay somewhere else. 

He had been honest with her about his intentions, about how felt about her and the kids. 

But she wasn’t sure she wanted to stay, wasn’t sure about much of anything except needing to find a new foundation to settle her life on. He wanted to be that, but Tycho had been her only constant for so long she didn’t know how long it would take her to let go of the hurt and betrayal. 

There was some room in the Coruscant chapter, as their matriarch had told him. The Hutts had made an alliance with Kanji Club and were encroaching on Mando territory. They needed someone like him to help bolster their numbers. 

He had told her he would consider it.

He couldn’t just leave Nevarro. Not after how Tycho had left. Paz knew he wasn’t their father but he had promised them he would be there if they needed him. 

Coruscant would have to wait until Syala made up her mind. If they were safe and settled in then he could leave with a clear conscience. It would be hard, being away from them, but if he could be useful somewhere else he’d rather be busy and far away. If she didn’t want this to go further he would have to leave, he was sure nothing else would keep him from being on her doorstep every day. 

He received another message from Din. 

**‘Contact in D’Qar saw Hutts camped at the edge of the forest. Group of 6.’**

That was still too close for comfort even if it was a few hours away. Din was miles away from Nevarro in the opposite direction of D’Qar, Paz knew, or else he would have handled it with him. He’d have to head back first thing in the morning and get a team together with the Armorer’s blessing. 

He sent a text to Syala before beginning to close up his conversation with another Mando. He’d need to be rested. 

* * *

**‘Stay in the Covert. I’ll be home soon.’**

Paz wasn’t great at conversations over text, but this was a brand new level of cryptic and distant. Syala gave a frustrated sigh as she reread the message and then went back to feeding Jido his breakfast. 

It had been sent long before she was even up, and even though her heart had done a strange little leap and her lips had softly formed into a smile at his name popping up first thing in the morning – she was not expecting him to be so serious and mysterious. Would a “good morning” have killed him to type out first? 

It was too early for her to linger on why it mattered at all to her. The feelings were too complicated and her day had barely started. But it set the mood for the day as she got the kids up in time for their lessons.

Mornings were the only time the house was calm – Nessa and Lysa were still too sleepy to be anything but quiet as they ate their food. Jido had energy in the mornings but he was very focused on his breakfast and it was a small blessing that she had some kind of peace with her coffee in the mornings. 

That peace was momentarily broken when there was a knock on the door. When she opened it up, you were rushing and quickly explaining you had to leave for work before you handed over Junior to her. It was still a twenty-minute drive back into town and you barely had time to yell out ‘I love you’ to her before you were jogging to your car. 

Syala kind of liked having you over that early, even if you didn’t stay long. She was comforted by your presence so near and so often. The two of you were all that was left of her old life. 

Still, she was nervous about the text she had received first thing in the morning. She sent the girls off to their lessons and tried to go about her day but there was an uneasiness that stayed settled in her stomach for most of the day. 

* * *

Despite your hectic rush to get to the store, it was a quiet day. The middle of the week usually was for you, so you had caught up on some paperwork for the store while you waited for Rina to show up for her end of the shift before you headed back to the Covert to meet up with Din when he returned from his hunt. 

The bell jingled above the door when someone entered, a woman with long blonde hair pulled up high and tight. You could see a few tattoos peek out from the collar of her shirt, and the ends of her sleeves, you couldn’t really see what any of them were though. Just the hint of ink on pale skin. She was pretty with sharp features and high cheekbones, you couldn’t help but stare for a moment.

After a beat, you smiled wide, “Hi, welcome in.” 

“Thanks.” 

“Can I help you find anything?”

She looked around the store, and said, “uh…something that’s not a lot of work.”

“Sure,” you said and walked around the counter. 

She wasn’t very talkative, and you felt like she was only half-listening to you. You showed her some cacti and a few houseplants you usually offered up to the most inept at plant care but she never grabbed any of them or seemed very interested. At some point, you saw her look around the store and out of the window to scan the street. You weren’t sure what she wanted, but it obviously didn’t plant. 

You were about to ask if any of the choices you had shown her caught her eye, a tactic you usually used to get yourself out of talking with customers if they were just window shopping or to alert someone you suspected that you were on to their game. Before you could speak, your cell phone started ringing across the room. 

“Give me just a moment,” you walked around the cash register and reached into your purse around the gun stored there. You didn’t recognize the number, but you accepted the call anyway, “hello?” 

The person on the other line said your name, sounding relieved and panicked all at the same time. “You have to leave Nevarro.”

“Who is this?” 

“It’s Tycho!” He said urgently. “You have to leave now, get out of town –”

“Tycho!” You hissed out. “It’s about time you called! Where are you right now?” 

“That’s not important, just listen to me –”

“Put the phone down.” The woman inside the shop said, distracting you from whatever Tycho was saying. 

“Sorry, it’s a family emergency –” You looked over your shoulder to apologize.

“Put it down.” She said seriously and reached behind her back, slowly pulling out a gun from the waistband of her pants. 

Your breath hitched at the sight of it, and you took the phone away from your ear. All you could think of was the gun pointed at you and you wondered if from her line of sight if she would see your hand slowly slip into your purse. The cash-wrap area gave you a little bit of coverage so thought you might be able to risk it. 

You had never thought so much about such a small movement. Vaguely you could hear Tycho yelling over the phone even though it was so far away from your ear as fear made a pit form in your stomach. 

You put the phone back in your purse, but you grabbed the gun and tried to subtly switch the safety as Din had shown you. The click of it switching over seemed so loud, and you could feel your heart beating hard in your chest. It was a quick and heavy thud that seemed to resonate through your body and make your hands shake. 

The woman behind you spoke and you jumped a little. “Turn around, and start walking. Through the back door.”

Taking a deep breath and bracing yourself, you turned abruptly and pulled the trigger twice. The bang of it was deafening in the small area. Your aim was absolute shit, the combination of shaking hands and inexperience working against you. Pottery started fracturing in the air, and the second shot took out a light – the glass bulb shattered and the metal lampshade made a loud dinging noise. 

The woman before you didn’t shoot back, but with a strength you wouldn’t have expected from her slender frame she overturned a table in the middle of the shop and ducked behind it. You were about to pull the trigger again when the back door flew open and you turned your aim towards it. A man you didn’t recognize had barged in, armed and aiming directly at you. With a gasp, you ducked behind the register. 

He pulled the trigger a few times and then you lifted a hand to try and shoot whilst still hiding. It was loud, a combination of gunfire and things in your shop being torn apart by flying bullets. You had always imagined the time would slow down in such a situation, but in reality, it went so much faster.

It was only for a few moments that you were tensing with every loud pop and ignoring the way your wrist hurt at the kickback from your handgun. It all faded away so quickly and with the quiet, you realized you were still pulling the trigger but the gun was just clicking in response. 

“What the fuck, Barada!” The woman shrieked. 

“She was trying to shoot me!” The man retorted. 

“If you kill her we can’t collect,” she hissed back. 

Ducked down behind the counter you eyed the baseball bat still stored underneath it. The door was right there, and it was still light outside —there had to be people around. If you could just make it out that door and into the street, they might just leave. You scrambled around it and on wobbly knees got to your feet, only to see the woman block the door. 

“Don’t even think about it, just walk –”

You didn’t let her finish before you swung the bat blindly at the general direction of her head. She barely dodged it and her movement gave you the slightest opening to get around her. When you dashed forward she grabbed the other end of the bat so you couldn’t swing it at her again. You let go of it so she couldn’t use it to pull you back and tried to make it to the door. Your hand was on the cold metal of the handle when you were suddenly grabbed around the middle and tugged backward. 

She was stronger than you, and all you could do was kick and scream and dig your nails into whatever flesh you could to try and tear yourself free. Your feet made contact with potted plants, knocking them over so they fell to the ground with a crash and you wiggled enough that she struggled to keep you in her grip. 

She snarled out her partner’s name, “Barada!”

A second pair of hands grabbed you before she could finish yelling it and they both started dragging you back towards the door. 

This was where time seemed to slow down. You got the tiniest bit of hope when their grips slipped, thinking maybe you still had a chance. But every time those hopes were dashed when you felt your body yanked back carelessly. 

In the struggle you hit the door jamb with your shoulder, crying out at the impact and for a moment you stopped struggling with the pain. Your feet dragged against the concrete now that your store got further and further away from you. 

You were lifted slightly into a vehicle and the woman climbed in the back of it with you while the man slid the door shut. It was dark since there were no windows back there, the only light coming from the front seat and you felt the whole thing shift as the man climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

“No!” You yelled, trying to get to the door but you were intercepted by the woman again. 

She grabbed you and with the momentum of the van taking off you were easily knocked onto your back. Quickly her hands wrapped around your throat. Air wasn’t coming through as she constricted her grip, and you choked as you tried to inhale. It hurt like nothing you had ever felt before, and you thought something might snap in your throat, the tight pain making tears spring into your eyes. 

There was nothing to do but thrash, and scratch but you rarely ever made contact with her, and if you did she would hiss and tighten her grip. Your vision started to go blurry at the edges, darkening as your limbs lost will to fight back until you went limp in her hands. The last thought that registered before you lost consciousness was that anyone who could help you was so far away — _Din would never get to you in time._

Once you had gone limp she didn’t quite let up. 

“Yaruk,” Barada said from the front seat. “We need her alive.”

Her hands went loose. “Bitch tried to shoot me,” she hissed, bringing her hand down on your cheek with a loud slap, but you didn’t stir.

“Did you kill her?”

“Fuck,” Yaruck muttered, leaning in to check. “No, she’s breathing.” 

“Good, tie her up.”

* * *

With his quarry finally tracked and traded for payment, Din was relieved when he could see Nevarro get steadily closer from the road. He had to pass through town to get to the Covert, and he was going to stop by the store to check in first. Things like Tycho popping up in Coruscant and the Hutts on the edge of D’Qar didn’t sit right with him, and he wanted to be where he could keep an eye on you and the kids and Syala. Something just felt off about all of it and he had to know you were okay. 

He turned off of the main street, seeing a glimpse of a few people out in front of the store before they slipped out of view once he entered the alley behind your store. 

Your car was still parked behind the shop, along with another one he didn’t recognize. When he got off the bike he noticed that the car wasn’t actually parked but roughly rammed into the dumpster behind the store. The front was crunched inward and the car was still on with the driver’s side door left carelessly open. 

An acrid taste climbed up the back of his throat as he ran to the door. 

He stopped once he was halfway inside, the state of it making his stomach drop. 

It was a mess. There was an overturned table, glass and broken pieces of pottery were all over the floor. Plants had been knocked over, there were holes in the walls and one of the lights was out. Through the windows, he saw that a few people were looking in, bystanders and a couple of other shop owners. There was no blood anywhere but he knew what the aftermath of a shootout looked like. He checked behind the counter and just saw the gun he had given you thrown aside, the barrel empty.

All thoughts blanked out of his mind for a moment except for your name which immediately tore out of his mouth in a raucous yell that reverberated in the helmet. 

Din ran toward the door to the stairwell that led to the loft, ready to take the steps two at a time. Part of him knew you wouldn’t be up there, his thoughts racing again and telling him it was useless to look because you were gone but he was hanging on to the last strand of hope. It could have been a robbery, plain and simple, and you could be upstairs hiding. 

But when he opened the door the stairway was blocked. 

Tycho sat on the steps and lifted his gaze up to stare into the visor of the helmet. He looked awful. His eyes red and swollen, his forehead was shiny with sweat and his cheeks were wet with tears.

Din thought he saw red when he realized who it was, the cold fear giving abruptly away to a heat that seemed to overcome him. 

Tycho’s voice was a little hoarse when he spoke, “they took her.” 

Din really didn’t have much sympathy for his distress when he took two steps forward and lifted him by his shirt. 

“What did you do? _Where is she_?” He hardly recognized his voice, the words coming out in a threatening snarl.

Tycho whimpered before he explained, but didn’t look scared. He hung limp in Din’s grasp and reeked of alcohol. “It was a lot of money and I couldn’t keep up—“ 

Din didn’t need to hear the rest. With an angry growl, he threw Tycho out of the hallway and onto the glass-covered floor of the store. He rolled with the force of it and tried to get up but Din was right behind, stalking over to him and kneeling down to grab at him with one hand, the other winding up to punch. 

It wouldn’t feel good, Din knew, but he didn’t care. Part of him hoped that if he did it, you would somehow appear to try and stop him. He would have given anything to have you suddenly burst through the door and scream at him for trying to hurt Tycho. 

At least then he would know that you were safe. 

A thousand things were running through his mind, visions of you alone and scared and crying and hurt and he couldn’t see past all of the horrible things that could be happening to you. He should have insisted you stayed in the Covert, this never would have happened if you were within the walls. He should have come home sooner. He was going to _kill_ whoever the hell it was that thought they could take you from him. 

He was thinking too quickly, the panic wouldn’t stop rising and it was quickly shifting into a rage that it demanded he do something – anything – to make it right. 

Tycho was right there in front of him and it was _his fault._

Before he could bring his fist down, and find any kind of satisfaction from the crack his nose would make when it made contact the bells above the door jingled. Din’s body immediately shifted towards the door, ready to defend himself until he recognized the man who had entered. A friend of yours who owned the coffee shop on the corner of the street. 

“She’s been gone for a little less than an hour,” he said and ran around the counter, glass crunching under his feet. He grabbed some discarded receipt paper and a pen off of the counter to write down his number. “The girl she just hired is my cousin, she showed up for her shift and the place looked like this. You can call me if you have more questions but you two need to leave now. The cops are on their way.” 

He offered Din the paper, who shoved Tycho back onto the floor and stuffed the crumpled up paper into the pocket inside his vest. Din stood up, his focus now honing in on Arlan. 

“Did she see anything? The girl – your cousin, she didn’t see anyone –” He asked urgently. 

“I don’t know yet –” Arlan answered just as quickly, his hands up in front of him to try and placate the man in front of him. He didn’t need to see his face to read the anger radiating from him. 

“Are you hiding something?” Din growled out.

“No, I –”

“Everyone on the fucking street knows when I come and go,” every step Din took closer, Arlan took a step back towards the front door, “I’m gone for one day and she’s taken –” 

“She’s our _friend_ , no one wanted to see her hurt,” he insisted. The sound of sirens broke through the tension in the room, and they were getting closer with every passing second. “You have to go!”

Din gave half a shout, his fist balling up so tightly they shook a little. He turned toward Tycho, roughly dragging him up to his feet, “up,” he commanded, and then grabbed him to guide him towards the back door.

There was a quiet voice in his head reminding him that he couldn’t help you if he got arrested. Whatever information Tycho had was the only thing keeping him alive at this point, and he would be useless if he was stuck in a cell. Din had to leave, and he had to bring Tycho with him but he had so many questions and all of his leads would be right there on the street. 

They bypassed both of the cars, and Din shoved him forward.

“Get on the bike.” He growled. 

“Where are we going?” 

“You’re coming with me, and you’re going to _fix this_.” He said. 

Din felt a little sick when Tycho’s arms grabbed on to the leather of the vest to keep himself on the bike. He couldn’t stand the thought of touching him unless he was on the other end of his fist. But he was out of options. 

He took off a little too fast and Tycho yelped while he tried to hang on. He had to find a route that went around the cop cars wailing in the distance, and he had to get back to the Covert as quickly as he could. 

If he was going to find you alive, he was going to have to move fast. 


	10. Sour Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paz had to accept his place as somewhat of an observer, just there to make sure things didn’t get out of hand again. Syala was across the room with Jido in her arms, trying to calm down. The line of Din’s shoulders – tight and coiled – meant that it took some self-control to bring Tycho here in one piece.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: language, graphic violence (a little more graphic than canon), angry yelling, angst, force-feeding, children crying.

Din pulled up to the Covert gate only ten minutes after leaving the store with Tycho tensely holding on to him. He got a questioning look from the Mandalorian at the gate since the man with him was not his usual guest, but he had no time to explain. The only thing he slowed down for were the children playing on the road, and he could deal with the backlash from blowing off everyone else later.

Behind him, he heard Tycho call out, and felt his grip loosen. He was coasting, just going fast enough to stay upright as the kids moved out of his way. Din had to halt the bike when Nessa zoomed in front of him, crossing his path towards her mother’s door, flinging it open, and running inside.

He commanded Tycho off, and the man scrambled to listen allowing Din to stand the bike safely. Syala and Paz were in the doorway when he looked up, both of her girls trying to peek around them and Jido in his mother’s arms. 

Tycho was frozen for a second, as he took in the sight of his family. His ex-wife stood in the doorway with an unfamiliar man - a very big unfamiliar man. The kids looked the same, and yet so much older than last time he saw them and he felt nauseous. 

Din impatiently pushed him and he stumbled forward a few steps.

Syala almost didn’t believe Nessa when she came in screaming that her father was there in the Covert, but now that she saw him a strange sensation came over her body. A buzz of shock. There was a very small part of her that was relieved to see him alive and in one piece – she was happy that he was okay. 

That small moment of confused relief was short-lived, however, once her logic caught up to her heart and she remembered Din wouldn’t bring him beyond the walls unless something was very wrong.

A quick panic made her heart jump when she realized you were not with them, and hot anger followed very quickly after it.

She handed Jido to Paz, who damn near dropped him because he was not expecting to be bestowed that honor in such an abrupt way. But he quickly got his grip and lifted the little boy higher up in his arms, watching as Syala was running full speed towards her ex-husband. 

At first, he thought she was going to kiss him – a sick feeling settling deep in his gut at the thought – and he could only watch as it all played out in front of him. But she didn’t kiss him.

She was screaming and with a physical strength Paz was quite surprised to see, she dragged him out of Din’s grip. Pushing and shoving in response to reaching an emotional boiling point that was way overdue. There was a loud repeating chorus of curses, insults, and ‘what did you do’ and when he didn’t answer even Paz can hear the echo of the loud slap that she landed on the side of the face. 

People were watching now, as Din separated the two of them. He was as gentle as he could be with Syala, growling out that she had to stop it before he started tugging Tycho along with him towards the door. 

The Armorer was definitely going to hear about this, whether he wanted her to or not. Mandos and some of the other guest residents were all watching this play out right in the open.

But first, and foremost, Paz remembered the kids were all there watching whatever this was. 

“Nessa,” Paz said, “take Lysa and Junior to your room.”

“But -”

“Now.” 

It was stern, and she had never heard him use that tone with her before. She was curious, and she wanted to know what was happening but she was not ready to test any boundaries with Paz. Junior was trying to move around the taller girls to get to his father, she turned to grab his hand and wrapped the other around her sister’s wrist and gently tugged them further into the house. 

When the other adults reached the door, Paz let Syala pass by him into the house, taking Jido from his arms and bringing him with her but he blocked the men. 

“You better have a good reason – “ Paz started.

Din said your name and then said, “the Hutts took her. I’ve got questions for him.”

“He can’t come into – “

“Took her?” Syala interrupted from over his shoulder, no less angry but momentarily too busy holding her son to attack again. “What do you mean?”

“Ask him.” Din shoved Tycho forward. 

Paz allowed him in, but he stood in front of the hallway leading to the bedrooms so he could not see nor enter it. Paz had to accept his place as somewhat of an observer, just there to make sure things didn’t get out of hand again. Syala was across the room with Jido in her arms, trying to calm down. The line of Din’s shoulders – tight and coiled – meant that it took some self-control to bring Tycho here in one piece. 

The tension in that house was bound to give at any moment.

Din explained what he had walked into at the store. “We had to leave, the cops were on their way and he’s our only lead as of right now.”

Paz cursed in Mando’a. 

“Well?” Syala hissed at Tycho. 

“I borrowed some money and was going to work it off, I just wanted to catch up,” he said desperately. “But they kept adding interest and at some point –”

“You got in over your head,” Syala finished for him sarcastically. “When are you going to fucking learn, Tycho?” She was seething, and Jido was beginning to whimper in her arms from the yelling and hostility in the room. “This is exactly why we left – do you realize it could have been any of the kids?” 

“You were here – “

“That’s exactly why we are here,” she said, her voice cracking but not lacking any conviction. “Your sister tried to help you and where did it get her?” 

“Enough,” Din cut in. “Tell us what you know.”

“I got a message yesterday. It was a picture from the street of the store and a warning.” Tycho provided. “I tried to call her, but they were in there by the time I got ahold of her… I heard a woman’s voice and some gunshots and then a man –”

“Did you hear any names?” Din asked. 

“I don’t remember,” he said, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palms. 

Din grabbed him again, pulling him close to the helmet’s visor. “Wrong answer.”

“Okay! Okay, give me a second!” Tycho said frantically. “Maybe, after the shooting stopped? Barda? Beru? Something with a B.”

“This is our best lead?” Paz asked skeptically. 

It was one of the leads. He still had to call Arlan. He needed to know if there were any cameras on the street that caught anything – he needed to get the word out to the other chapters as well and he would have to talk with some of his contacts from the underworld to see if a bounty had been put out. There was a lot to do, and he had no idea how long you had been gone and every second you got further away. 

“Give me the phone,” Din demanded. 

Tycho dug into his pockets and pulled out the burner phone, handing it over to Din. There was the message he spoke of, and the number attached to it. No new messages yet. 

“How long has she been gone?”

“I called an hour out of Nevarro,” Tycho said. 

“Those Hutts in D’Qar,” Paz said. “Someone told me they stayed the night and then headed out in the morning. It could have been them.”

“The Hutts wouldn’t come this close to Nevarro,” Din said. “I’ll check with my contacts — might have been an unsanctioned bounty. They were probably on their way to collect before you even got there.”

“She can’t be far,” Paz said, partially as a comfort to both Syala and Din. “If it’s money they want then we have some time, they won’t kill her if they need her for leverage.”

There was a beat and then a sob, a horrible sound coming through a tiny voice, and Paz turned abruptly. Nessa and Syala were crouched down in the hallway and eavesdropping, the oldest one now trying to quiet the youngest who was weeping. 

“I-it’s my fault,” Lysa said, barely discernible through her weeping. “I t-told Daddy we were here, it was an accident!! I didn’t mean to…” she deteriorated into incoherent crying. 

“What is she talking about?” Syala demanded.

“On her birthday,” Tycho sighed, “she said something about Mandos and I figured it out. I tried to ask questions but she hung up.” He shook his head, “I just wanted to know you were okay.” 

Paz saw red. It was too much of a mess and there was one cause sitting right in front of him. He couldn’t handle hearing the little girl cry, thinking it was her fault and something very deep in him snapped. 

Din was almost jealous that Paz got his hands on him, especially when Tycho went limp after Paz crossed the room in a few large strides and socked him. Paz’s punches hurt, he knew from experience, and Tycho might be out for a minute from the way he slumped over. 

There was another shriek, it was honest to God chaos as Syala started shepherding the kids into a room and trying her best to comfort Lysa who was only more upset about the display of violence. 

“Don’t kill him,” Din said blandly.

He heard Junior’s voice, a squeaky cry, and his body was moving towards it before he could think to stop. This was scary, and confusing for all of them. He maybe shouldn’t have left Paz alone with Tycho but the man was in no headspace to be near the kids — he’d only hate himself for scaring them and it would only make him lash out again. 

Din came into the room, Nessa, with tears streaking her face, was holding Jido who had also started to cry. Junior immediately ran to him, grabbing onto his pant leg and looking up at him. He picked him up and stood up straight, letting the toddler cling onto his vest. 

“Is she gonna die?” Nessa asked bluntly.

“Nessa,” Syala admonished. 

“No,” Din said seriously, “I’m gonna go get her.”

The girl wiped her eyes, “I’ll help my mom. We can watch Junior make sure my Dad doesn’t go anywhere.” Her bottom lip trembled but she kept her head up high. “You and Paz have to bring her back. You have to.” 

For a moment he just stared, wondering vaguely about you and him having children, and if they would be stoic and full of fire like Nessa or maybe gentler like Lysa who was hiccuping in her mom’s lap. 

The girl must have misunderstood his silence so she spoke again, “vi cabuor cuun aliit.”

Syala’s head snapped towards her oldest. “What did you just say?”

Her pronunciation was a little off, the sentence a little simplistic but very good for someone who had only begun learning. Din already knew who had said this to her before, and he could even hear Paz’s influence on the way she inflected certain words. 

Behind his helmet, Din’s eyebrows rose towards his hairline as he translated, “we protect our clan.” 

Syala was about to say something when Paz came to the door, trying and failing to make himself look smaller – to hide the way his hands were still balled up into fists. “The Armorer wants to see us.”

* * *

At one time, the Armorer’s forge would have been aptly named. It was where they would have created, repaired, and bestowed armor but over time the position had evolved. Nevarro’s Armorer was still hands-on, unlike some others, and her place was where bike parts were salvaged, vests were repaired and patches created and handed out. 

She had a desk, which had neat piles of paperwork stacked – truces, legal documents, agreements with neighboring towns and the republic – but she notoriously hated paperwork and being at a desk. She recruited Mandalorians who were not able to participate in or did not thrive in the more physical occupations to help her keep things in order. 

There were a few of them in her office when Paz and Din walked in, going over numbers for supplies or adoption papers for foundlings. All the while the sound of the Armorer engraving a body piece for a bike could be heard just out of the way so as not to accidentally set any paperwork on fire. 

Din and Paz approached her, and she didn’t look up from her work. 

“There was quite the stir in the commons earlier and I was just informed there was screaming heard inside one of the guest homes.” She set down some of her tools, “and we have a Hutt associate within our gates.”

“Syala’s sister was taken,” Paz provided, “he is our best lead, as of now.”

“A lot of time and resources have gone into this family,” the Armorer noted. 

“The woman, the one who was taken, she’s –”

“I do see what goes on in my Covert,” she interrupted him, “both of you are involved in one way or another, I’m aware.” She looked up finally, the blankness of her helmet and the evenness of her tone made Din wonder if that’s how it felt to be on the other side. “Syala’s children fit in well here, as does she. Our gates are open to them for a reason. And if the other one is important –”

“She is,” Din interjected. 

“Then you had better get your houses in order. Be sure to mark out your borrowed equipment with my bookkeepers, they like to keep tabs on these things.” She looked between the both of them, “get the information necessary from the Hutt smuggler. He is to be out of the gates by sundown.” 

Both of them nodded, but when they turned around to leave she stopped them again.

“Those Hutts spotted in D’Qar came dangerously close to our territory, and now someone under our protection has been harmed by them,” she was looking at them now and even if they couldn’t see her eyes, Din knew her intensity served a purpose. “If your search brings you across them, be sure they are reminded not to threaten us again.” 

Din, in all fairness, was going to do exactly that regardless of what the Armorer had said, but having permission only made it less messy for him. As the two walked out, they waited until they were clear of anyone overhearing before they turned to each other.

“When Tycho comes to, find out which leader he borrowed the money from, we might be able to find a trail.” Din said, “I have to gather information from the street and wait for a ransom. We might be able to show up for a trade-off and take care of it there.”

“Those Hutts in D’Qar, do you know anyone who would have business with them?” Paz asked. 

“A couple,” Din said. “I’ll contact them.”

Nessa was running up to them at breakneck speed, and when she got there she had to stop to catch her breath. 

“Nessa,” Paz said, “what is it, you should be with your mother.”

“There’s someone –” she took a deep breath, “at the gates,” breath, “looking for Dad.” She took two huge swallows of air and then said, “they’re from the New Republic.” 

* * *

Your body ached. There was a soreness in your throat that made you groan. When the sound came out it had to travel through a thick fabric in your mouth, and you felt the tight way it was tied around your head. 

The angle you were laying at made your shoulder scream in protest and your back twitched trying to relax but unable to – and your hands were feeling a little numb. The surface you were on was hard and the rough texture pressed into the skin of your cheek. 

When you opened your eyes you were in a dimly lit room, from your position on the ground you saw a small rectangular window, covered in a flimsy cloth that blocked your view and diffused what light was coming through. The walls were wooden, and so was the floor you were on. It was a dusty storeroom of some kind, you saw cleaning supplies that had gathered cobwebs and dirt on them from disuse. Shelves filled with bottles of cleaning formulas, the labels faded and unreadable. 

You shifted your body, trying to get yourself onto your knees. Currently, you were half on your side, hands tied behind your back and ankles tied together. Which explained why your hands were numb and your back hurt so much from the contorted angle. Flopping over onto your stomach, you grunted and attempted to drag your knees beneath you, pushing your shoulders into the floor to try and give you leverage up. 

With a push, you tried to force your way up but it didn’t work and you flopped hard on the floor. 

Tears were starting to gather in your eyes now. You hurt all over and you were hungry and thirsty and scared. 

There was no real way to determine how long you laid like that. The new position made your back feel a little better, but soon it started to hurt your chest on the hardwood and your face was pressed against the dirty floor, now starting to get a little wet as tears slipped down your face. 

They hadn’t killed you yet. Which you tried to take as a good sign. 

The longer you laid there, the more you remembered the shootout in the shop even though most of it was a blur that you weren’t sure you could clearly recall. Both of them had said they couldn’t kill you, so you tried to hold on to the hope that someone would be able to retrieve you. 

Still, it was confusing. It had something to do with Tycho, you were sure. 

The sun was setting, and your only way of knowing was that the room was getting darker and darker until eventually, you were laying face down in inky darkness. You were trying your best to hold on to hope, but there was no way for you to know how long you had been wherever you were, no way to know if anyone was out looking for you yet or if these people would kill you before they got what they wanted.

It was hard to hold back the tears when you were all alone and in pain and every time, a muffled sob wrenched its way out of your throat it fucking hurt more. 

There was a loud bang that made your whole body jump and you tried to curl your body to see the door but you couldn’t move enough to look. A light switched on, old and dim, casting more shadows in the room. 

“Look who’s awake,” the female voice said and you heard the thumping of her feet before her shoes came into view. She grabbed underneath your arms and pulled you up so you were on your knees. “Oh, are these tears?” Once she had you up she let go and wiped the wetness off your face, “but you were such a big tough girl yesterday.”

Yesterday. You’d been gone for a full day. Din must have noticed, God, you hoped he had noticed. 

“Yaruck, just take the picture and feed her.” 

A man’s voice, you looked over and saw him standing in the doorway, he was a big guy. Strong and sturdily built, completely bald, and a scraggly beard that looked in good need of a wash. Things had happened so fast at the shop you could barely make him out. When you turned back to the woman a phone was shoved in your face, a flash went off and the light of it hurt your eyes. 

“Smile pretty!” 

She showed you the phone screen. You looked terrible. A tear-stained face, bloodshot eyes with some kind of cloth tied around your face to keep you quiet and miserable looking. 

“I think you’ve probably looked better but it’ll do.”

She pulled the phone away, typing for a moment, and then set the phone aside. 

“Let’s take this off,” she reached around and untied the cloth, and your jaw felt immediately relieved.

You opened and closed it a few times to stretch the muscles. A water bottle was lifted to your lips and you sucked down as much as you could, some of it dribbling out of the side of your mouth. It was undignified and were you in a less dire situation you might have some feelings about it but you were so thirsty it hardly mattered. 

“I know we got off on the wrong foot,” the woman, Yaruck, said. “But this isn’t anything personal. It’s just business.”

You didn’t say anything back. 

“If anything you should be pissed at your brother,” she said. “He’s the one that got you into this mess.” 

“He owes money?” Your voice was unfamiliar, rough, and raspy from disuse and it was painful besides that. 

“Try not to talk,” she insisted. “I got a little carried away knocking you out earlier, that throat is gonna be sore, but you did shoot at me first.”

You had no illusions about how much this woman cared about you, she had taunted and teased and choked you until you were unconscious, but the variance between how she did all those things and spoke to you so kindly gave you whiplash. Part of you thought you might prefer if she was just cruel. Otherwise, it was just unnerving, and felt like you were being mocked. 

“He owes money to the Hutts,” she made a face, condescendingly sympathetic in nature. “We’re giving him another day to bring the money, and if he doesn’t….” she shrugged. “I like you, blossom, but business is business.”

“Blossom?” You rasped.

“I thought it was a cute little nickname,” she grinned, but it was all bared teeth and restrained threats rather than anything bright and comforting. “‘Cause of the flower shop.” 

Barada stomped back into the room, his heavy gait making his approach apparent, “here.” He shoved a bag at Yaruck and she took it from him, peeking inside.

“No mold, that’s good,” she said and pulled out a bite-sized piece of bread. “Open up,” she offered to give the bread to you.

You weren’t sure what made you so bold, the water was one thing but eating out of her hand made you feel like some kind of animal. The condescending nickname, the way she taunted you with the camera and your brother. A part of you begged that you stayed quiet. Just keep your head down and try not to make this worse for yourself. But the little smirk on her face told you she was enjoying this, and if you took that bite out of her hand it would be the icing on the cake. There was no way in hell you were going to give her that. 

“Fuck you.” You croaked out.

“Come on, eat it,” she shoved the bread towards your open mouth. 

You tried to move your face away, but she was having some fun toying with you. You let her fingers near your mouth, only so you could bite down as hard as you could on them. She shrieked and yanked her hand away, it hurt your teeth when she did but you had a small moment of satisfaction from the way she shook her aching fingers. 

“You little cunt!” 

Her fist came at you so fast you felt the impact before the pain actually hit, and your body fell backward onto the floor. The pain came after, a blooming throb in your eye and brow bone paired with the sharp third of the back of your head bouncing off the floor. 

Yaruck stood over you, still cursing and you barely had time to process her words before her foot came out and landed on your ribs. You cried out, rolling onto your side and curling up against a few kicks to your torso. 

“Alright, ENOUGH!” Barada’s big voice filled the small room and you heard scuffling as he dragged Yaruck towards the door. 

The light clicked, the door slammed shut and you were alone in the dark. Curled into a ball and weeping from the pain in your body.


	11. Blood on My Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din knew deep down that the good of the community was something he should prioritize, but he didn’t really care. From the picture, he had just seen and the worry that he had that you might not make it out of this alive – he was ready to burn the Hutts to the ground. Starting with this group of insignificant footmen in the middle of the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: graphic violence, blood, guns, lowkey dark!din, angst, stress, the Din & Paz bro-ship we deserve, self-indulgent cameos, prostitution, alcohol, language, suggestive jokes.

_“There’s someone at the gates looking for dad. They’re from the New Republic.”_

Paz and Din looked at each other. The last thing they needed was the Republic breathing down their necks. 

“Get whatever else you need from Tycho, get ready for the ride,” Paz said, “I’ll deal with this.” 

Din nodded and both men parted ways, Nessa following Din back towards the house. 

“Is he awake yet?”

“Yeah,” she gave a dramatic sigh, “he is not happy.”

When Din walked back into the house, Syala sat at the dining room table where she could see the door – Tycho was alone in the living room holding a pack of frozen vegetables to his now swollen face. When Din entered Tycho flinched and grit his teeth.

“You can’t let the Republic take me –”

“I _can_ ,” he said back. “Give me names.”

“Of who?”

“Who did you borrow the money from, how can I contact them and how much do you owe them?” Din said.

Tycho listed it off. Some low-level loan shark called Tosi Jurra in Coruscant, but she had contacts all over. It was unlikely that Din would ever get his hands on her specifically, but he could send messages in other ways. The only useful means of contact was the number Tycho had received the initial warning from and that was still on his burner phone which was sitting snugly in Din’s vest pocket and the amount of money he owed was pretty hefty with interest tacked on. 

Din had quickly called Arlan for whatever info he got from the street, but it wasn’t much. The only name he got out of it was Barada, who he was unfamiliar with. Someone had seen a blonde woman enter the store before the shooting started, but no one around there knew enough to say who she was affiliated with. The cops were looking for you, but Din wasn’t going to sit around and wait for them. He had gotten all he could out of Nevarro and it was time to get on the road. 

With all of his questions answered, Din moved to where Syala sat and she looked up at him expectantly. 

“I’m going to say goodbye to Junior. Paz and I will be on the road as soon as we can,” he explained. “He can’t stay here,” he nodded his head towards Tycho, “do you want me to send the kids out to say goodbye?”

Syala looked at the visor for a moment and then clenched her eyes shut with a sigh when she figured out what he meant. “Yes.”

Din nodded and then headed down the short hallway and into the room, he sent the kids out and kneeled next to Junior who was on the bed. When the door closed behind them he lifted the helmet off his head and Junior tilted his head to the side as he took him in before he crawled over to grab at his nose. 

“I’ll be back soon, kid,” he said quietly. “Mind your manners and keep Jido out of his buir’s hair.”

Junior babbled something incoherent and Din put his helmet back on. He hoisted the boy up and held him for a moment, finding a small sense of comfort knowing he was at least safe in the Covert. When he brought the boy out, Syala had Jido in her arms as far as she could be from her ex-husband while in the same room, Nessa was very pointedly not looking at her dad but Lysa had crawled into his lap. 

He set Junior down and Nessa wasted no time calling him over to her, intending to keep her promise to help her mother while this was sorted out. Din had to gently remove Lysa from Tycho arms and send her to go finish her crying into her mother’s pant leg as she hid her face. 

The kids’ presence made it so his anger had to be a little quieter now. Enough yelling and punching had happened in the tiny house and he wasn’t going to add to it. Tycho stood and walked out of the house willingly, sparing a glance back at his family before Din gave him a gentle shove. Once they were out, Tycho seemed resigned to his fate. 

“You’re not going to wait for the Republic to find her, are you?”

“She’d be dead before they ever got permission to look for her,” Din said.

“I am sorry.” He admitted. “I never wanted her to get hurt.”

Din didn’t have a proper response for that. Tycho’s intentions were a little pointless to him. He had been warned about the risks over and over again. 

The gate was open enough that Din could push Tycho through it and step through after. There was a decent-sized SUV parked at the gate entrance, two men standing just outside their doors on either side, hands on their hips where they were probably armed. 

Speaking to Paz was a woman, who seemed to be the one in charge. Her black hair was pulled out of her face, a small smirk on her face as her brown eyes trailed over to the two new people at the gate. She had on an armed uniform, she was ready for an altercation, but she didn’t have her hand near the gun strapped to her side. 

“Are you the Mandalorian that was on the scene?” She asked.

“Depends on who’s asking,” Din responded. 

“I’m Lieutenant Shara Bey,” she said back, “I have two warrants out, one for each of you.” 

“I won’t take payment for catching this one if you drop my warrant,” Din shoved Tycho forward.

“Do you have any information about the kidnapping that happened earlier today?”

Din cocked his head to the side. “The woman who was kidnapped is under the protection of the Mandalorians. We had nothing to do with it.”

Shara gave a little smile and nodded her head. Mandalorians were notoriously distrusting of the New Republic regardless of the working relationship between the two. “I’m sure you didn’t.”

“Then why the warrant?” Paz asked.

“A Mandalorian was at the scene of the crime, we know it has ties to the Hutts. You aren’t in any trouble, but the Hutts are the Republics jurisdiction and we have to investigate every aspect —“

Paz mumbled something in Mando’a. “This is why you never catch anyone, you spend too much time on irrelevant matters.”

“So you have found a lead?” 

“She’s under our protection,” Paz said plainly. “Take the di’kut and let us handle our business.” 

“You Mandos can’t just do whatever you want,” said one of the other men from their position by the car. “Sovereign or not, we have to work together.”

Shara turned with a look to her colleague. A clear message to shut the hell up before she turned back to the Mandalorians. “We are on your side.” She said simply. 

“Then let us do what needs to be done,” Paz said. “All this talk just wastes time.”

There was a beat where she seemed to consider his words. “Do you have permission from your superior here to find her?” When the two nodded, she took a deep breath, “since you did offer up a bounty with little damage, we might be able to arrange a deal in order to get yours dropped,” Shara said. “I have to ask you to report it, but if you happen to take out a few Hutts that are definitely on our wanted list… I think we could ignore this instance of vigilante justice.”

“Typical,” Paz grumbled. 

Shara shrugged. “Orders are orders, I do the best I can to work around them.”

“Deal,” Din said. 

Tycho was cuffed but before they could put him in the backseat of the SUV he turned to Din. “When you find her,” he said, “just tell her I’m sorry.” 

Din nodded. 

The lieutenant climbed into the driver’s seat, “great doing business with you, Mandos.”

Din and Paz watched the car pull off onto the road, and waited for it to make it out of sight. They needed to get on the road, so they both walked back through the gates. Paz was not quite ready to face the kids again, still a little ashamed about scaring them the way he had, so he didn’t go to say goodbye. They filled up the bikes and grabbed what weaponry they needed, putting on bulletproof vests beneath their leather Mandalorian cuts, and started the ride to D’Qar.

* * *

Tycho was hardly able to talk his way of out being in New Republic custody. He had fucked up, and he knew better than to expect the Mandalorians to save his ass. His only comfort was that he knew if anyone would get you back from the Hutts before the worst happened it would be them and inside the gates, his children were safe from any kind of revenge. 

“I’m surprised the Mandalorians let you into their gates,” Shara said from the front seat. 

“They needed information.” 

“Are you still willing to share what you know?” she asked. 

Tycho mulled over the question. There was a chance he could negotiate a shorter sentence, he wasn’t very deep in the ranks of the Hutts but he knew enough to put a dent in their operations were he to give up some secrets. But his kids would have to leave that Covert one day, and he wasn’t ready to put them at risk like that. He had learned his lesson, Syala was right – it could have been one of them.

“You have kids?” He asked.

“Just one,” Shara replied, “he’s seven.”

“Then you know why I can’t tell you anything.”

“I missed the first years of his life fighting in the war,” Shara replied, “so that he could grow up in a world without the empire. You run the risk, so that they can have a better life.”

“You’re not gonna get rid of the Hutts,” he replied, “and they’ll come after them before you got through the paperwork to even launch an investigation.”

Shara made eye contact with him through the rearview mirror and then set her eyes back on the road. 

“You think the Mandalorians would let that happen?”

Tycho didn’t need it shoved in his face that the Mandos were better at keeping his family safe than he was. So he didn’t reply. 

“Your heart is in the right place, Tycho,” she said, “I think that counts for something.”

* * *

The ride was quicker on the bike and with Paz who was more than willing to break a few speed limits alongside him. They weaved through traffic when it clogged up the roads and the loud noise of the bikes echoed when the road was clear enough for them to really open up. They were losing daylight and time, every buzz in his pocket made Din feel dread and it took everything in him not to stop and check every message sent to either his phone or Tycho’s burner phone stashed in his vest pocket. 

When he opened one up would he find out it was too late? 

The terrain shifted and D’Qar’s thick forest made the road begin to wind, it was enough to make them slow down a little. While D’Qar was the biggest forest and town in the Ileenium region, there were a couple of neighboring towns around the edges of the forest. Ukaan was one he had spent quite a lot of time in, a small roadside town where travelers could stop for the night if D’Qar’s hustle and bustle were too much. 

He pulled off of the road and Paz followed him, the bikes and vests pulling stares as they arrived at a large two-story building just next to the only bar in town. It was nondescript, no signs or open windows, just a few different people milling about in front of it. Some of them dressed provocatively as others solicited their attention. 

“Your contacts are here?” Paz asked once the bikes had stopped and both men got off, recognizing exactly what kind of place this was. He stretched a little from the long ride. 

“I have a few friends here,” Din responded. 

Paz chose not to comment as they approached the doors. Inside it was more glamorous than the exterior suggested: plush lounge chairs and settees where beautiful people were reclining either alone or with a customer. It was dark, decorative lanterns hanging from the ceiling giving the room a moody atmosphere and the combination of jewel-toned colors made it seem very lavish and sensual. 

There was a small stage, currently unoccupied, and the only hallway led to a kitchen and a stairway to the second floor. By the hallway entrance was a burly security guard, wearing a nice suit and very obviously armed. 

For a roadside brothel, it was much nicer than Paz would have expected. Din moved around the place easily, heading towards the hallway only to be blocked by the security guard. 

“You got an appointment, Mando?”

“No.”

“Sorry, fellas, the upstairs area is only by appointment today,” he said, “you can work something out with our companions here on the ground floor.”

“I’m not here for that kind of business today,” Din said, “I just have a few questions for some of the girls who work here.”

“Then I suggest you make an appointment.”

Din was about to lose his temper because time was already running out with the sun almost set. It had been hours since he heard any news about you, and the only thing he could do was try to track you down before he got the news that the worst had happened. He wasn’t going to let anyone get in the way of that. 

Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of a young woman carrying a tray of snacks and drinks about to head up the stairs. He recognized her immediately, even if he only saw the flash of brown hair and the silky robe that showed off her legs. 

“Figgy,” he called and the girl looked over, blue eyes sparkling with recognition immediately and her lips, painted dark red, split into a smile. 

“Welcome back, Mando,” her eyes trailed over to Paz, “oh, there are two of you.”

“Fig, I need your help,” Din said stepping forward. 

“Okay, buddy, back up,” the Security guard said, putting his hand out to keep him from getting any further. 

“It’s okay, Varlo,” Figgy said. “You sound worried, what’s wrong?”

“My…” he hesitated, “someone I care about is in trouble, I need to know if you’ve seen any Hutts come in within the last couple days,” he said.

“I haven’t,” she said, “but Amaryllis and Hela are upstairs, why don’t you come up and ask them.”

“Figgy,” the security guard, Varlo, warned. “You know the rules.”

“It’s my night to perform, am I not allowed to have guests?” 

Varlo sighed and rolled his eyes and moved out of the way. “Get your info and then clear out.” 

Din nodded his head and started following Figgy as she led the way up the stairs, her tray of libations still in hand. Upstairs was just as nice, but there were a decent number of closed doors and the telltale sound of various moans, groans, and tinkling laughter in the air from behind them. 

When Figgy opened the door to her room a different kind of laughter carried through, not coquettish or sensual, but full and joyous. Inside the room, around a small table were two other people speaking to each other. Figgy brought the tray around and dropped it off at the table before sitting with them. 

While Figgy wore her robe over a set of lingerie, face done up for her performance later, the other two were quite casual on their day off. Amaryllis grabbed a glass of liquor off of the tray before Fig could put it down, she looked different than Din was used to seeing her. Instead of any kind of lingerie, she had on some jeans that had been ripped and worn, but her curly red hair was just about the same, eyeliner in sharp wings around sultry brown eyes and tattoos peeking out wherever skin was visible.

Hela noticed him first, her blue-gray eyes sliding across the room to the two men in the doorway, as she flipped her brown hair over her shoulder. “We’re off tonight Mandos, but we can make exceptions for you two,” she grinned.

“Five at a time sounds good to me,” Amaryllis chuckled, making Hela laugh with her. 

“Where have you been, we haven’t seen you in a while,” Hela asked Din. The lascivious tone had dropped, and while a mischievous sparkle was still in her eye she spoke to him like a friend, not a customer. 

“These are your friends, huh?” Paz said, obviously amused at this glimpse into his Vod’s formerly private personal life. 

“Quiet,” Din muttered. In any other circumstances, Din might have had something clever to say back, not necessarily charming but he wouldn’t be so serious. “I need to know if you’ve seen anyone unusual come through lately,” he said, “and I’ll leave you to your drinks.”

“He’s looking for some Hutts,” Figgy said as she started pouring herself a drink. “I think they stole his girlfriend.”

“A girlfriend, Mando? Is that why we haven’t seen you lately?” Hela asked. “You don’t tell us anything anymore.”

“You can always bring her here with you,” Amaryllis said with a wink, “I’d love to meet her too.” 

Din felt the heat rise in his face behind the helmet at the suggestive implication. But there was no time for him to contemplate it. “She’s in danger, and if I don’t find her soon…”

Amaryllis raised an eyebrow, “there were a few that came in yesterday,” she told him, “said they were in town on business. I had one, but the other two were with other girls.”

“Did they say what they were here for?”

Amaryllis shook her head, “not to me. I only knew they were Hutts because of their patches. We didn’t talk much.”

Hela frowned a little, “I think I saw one at the bar when I was doing my rounds down there,” she said, “he kept complaining that they’re waiting for something.”

“Do you know where they’re staying?” Paz asked. “I rode up to the Northern edge of the forest where they were last sighted and no one was there.”

“They can’t be too far,” Figgy said, “let me ask around.”

“Get ready for your show,” Amaryllis told her and stood up, taking one last drink, “I know which girls they saw last night, I’ll go ask them now.”

When she left the room there was a little bit of silence before Figgy asked, “are you sure you don’t need anything while you wait, Mando? We have food and drinks.”

“No,” he said, “thank you.”

“What about you, big guy?” Hela inquired. 

“You’re kind,” Paz responded, “but no.” 

“Will you stay for my show, Mando?” Figgy asked, batting her eyelashes. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t.” 

When Amaryllis came back she had the vague location for a camp one of the Hutt footmen had let slip during pillow-talk. It was not precise, and they were outnumbered so it wasn’t ideal to not know an exact spot but it was better than nothing. He thanked all of them, reaching into his bag for a stack of cash for the information. 

“Don’t worry about it, Mando,” Amaryllis said, sliding the cash back. 

“My friends don’t work for free.” He replied, not moving to gather the cash up again. 

“Don’t be a stranger!” Hela called. 

“Come catch a show sometime,” Figgy smiled sweetly. 

As they made their way downstairs after several rather flirty goodbyes, Paz couldn’t help but tease. 

“Seems like you make friends much easier than you let on, vod.”

“They’re good people,” was all Din said in response. 

It got dark quick in the forest, and Din and Paz had to move quickly and quietly. There was a small dirt path off of the road with some recent tire tracks, there were only so many places someone could bring a vehicle in the thickly forested area, and Din liked their chances of finding the group along the dirt road. 

They parked the bikes just out of sight of the road and made the rest of the trek on foot; riding in would only make a racket and with the numbers, they were going against the element of surprise would suit them better. 

Paz wasn’t great at stealth, so he followed Din’s lead and tried to be as light-footed as he could carrying a huge gun. There was a light in the distance, flickering a little, Din figured it was a campfire. The phone in his vest pocket buzzed and he stopped. 

There was a message from the same number that had sent the initial message telling Tycho the kidnapping was coming. He was afraid to open it but it was the only communication he’d had from them in hours, so he did anyway, clinging onto the hope that what he opened up wouldn’t be the worst-case scenario.

The photograph of you made him feel nauseous, and it was an unfamiliar feeling to associate with your face. You looked back at him through the screen, nothing like your usual self, and it was easy to tell you had been roughed up and crying. The bright flash brought out every smudge of dirt and track mark of the tears running down your face. 

That anger bubbled in him again, except now he had something to do with it. Paz was looking at him, helmet aimed in his direction and waiting for whatever news.

Din put the phone back in his pocket. “No deals.”

Paz paused and then nodded his head once. 

The two made their way closer to the burning light in the distance, and Din had his hand on the butt of his gun before they even came to the clearing. He stopped Paz a few paces away and took in the set up of the camp while he could. Six people gathered around the fire. They were eating, and Din was ready to jump out guns blazing while they were distracted, but something a little darker spoke in the back of his mind. 

He wanted them to know why he was there, and he wanted them to know their mistake before he killed them. 

Paz wasn’t sure of the plan, since Din went a little quiet, but when his brother in arms stood and walked straight into the camp he heaved a heavy sigh. He stayed behind, not ready to reveal his own position yet, and watched. He had said no deals, so why was he walking into the camp like he was going to give any of them a chance. 

One man, a spindly thing with a shaved head and a few telling scars on his face noticed him first. “Hey!” He dropped his food to the ground and drew his gun. 

Din put his hands up in front of him, trying to come off as harmless as he could. 

“You got a lot of nerve, Mando, walking into a Hutt camp by yourself.” Said another person, a woman still eating and not at all bothered by his presence. 

“I’m here to cut a deal.” 

Paz was officially confused from his position in the brush. 

“For what?” the woman asked as her companions were all getting twitchy, hands moving away from food and towards their weapons. 

“You grabbed someone in Nevarro,” Din said, “someone who’s under Mandalorian protection.”

The woman froze in her meal, there was no other external hint that she was at all concerned. Her face was a cool facade of disinterest, and she turned her head up towards him. “And who would that be?”

He said your name. “She’s the sister of an associate of yours.”

He saw the gears turning over in her head. Neither of the groups wanted trouble with the other – that was a known fact – the Mandalorians had the favor of the New Republic and the Hutts had the manpower to do some serious damage if they wanted to. There would be incredible repercussions on both sides were a war between the two groups to start. 

Din knew that deep down he knew that the good of the community was something he should prioritize, but he didn’t really care. From the picture, he had just seen and the worry that he had that you might not make it out of this alive – he was ready to burn the Hutts to the ground. Starting with this group of insignificant footmen in the middle of the forest. 

“We were not aware that she was of any interest to the Mandalorians.” The woman said. 

“Now you are,” he said.

“Yes.”

Din said, “give me her location and I’ll only kill the people who have her in custody now.”

There was a heavy pause, bated breath on the side of her companions who were ready to pull their triggers at any moment. Paz was standing by as well, weapon at the ready, picking his targets ahead of time while he listened closely to the interaction happening. 

“It’s a shame,” she said back, “those are good hunters.” With a small shrug, she went back to her food. “But I think we both know what our superiors would ask of us.”

Din nodded once. He had permission from a New Republic official and his Armorer to handle this the way he wanted to. 

“Boss, Tosi told us – “ the wiry man with his gun still pointed wanted to protest. 

The woman shifted her gaze to him, silencing him without a word. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a phone of her own, and when she did see the screen her expression shifted. “What my friend is trying to say, Mando is that our employer is still owed a great deal of money.” 

“That isn’t my problem.”

The woman heaved a heavy sigh. “Well, then I’m not sure what to tell you, Mando.” She stood, “you’re here by yourself, and you haven’t got any money to pay off what our associate owes. I can assure you that she won’t be further harmed, but I can’t give her up to you until there’s some kind of exchange.” 

Din nodded his head. “You think that amount of money is worth your life,” din asked, and nodded towards the others, “and theirs?”

“Oh, I love that confidence,” she said with a small smile. “Such a charming trait that all you Mandalorians have.” She winked, “I know you’re all good, but six to one? Even you have to admit your chances are low.” 

“Six to two.” Din corrected.

Paz revealed himself from the brush. The men around him were brandishing pistols, and Paz lifted the automatic rifle in his arms to aim it in their direction. The woman looked at him, and the gun he brandished, then back to Din who had his hands on his hips, the gun at his hip not drawn yet but his hand was close enough to it to cause concern. 

“Last chance,” Din said. “Give me the location.” 

“Give me the money.” The woman responded, attempting to call a bluff. 

Din ducked his head, he wasn’t bluffing. And there was no other way this was going to go but he had hoped he could get a location out of them before the inevitable happened. 

The moment he pulled his gun and aimed at the leader there was a succession of gunfire as Paz’s finger hit the trigger mowing down three of the Hutts. Only two of them got the chance to shoot off their own weapons and they went wide as their aim was interrupted by a short hail of bullets.

The leader and Din shot at the same time, and he wasn’t sure who to thank really but he hit her in the side and managed to not be hit. The twitchy Hutt footman with scars was continuously opening fire, and one hit Din in the vest. His body was thrown back by the impact but the Hutt had figured he was down and went to turn towards Paz. Din got his wits about him quick enough to point his gun and pull the trigger a few times, irritated by the stinging pain in his chest. 

They had limited ammo, there was no time to go back to the Covert to gather more and this was only step one of whatever half-cocked plan Din had. Paz resorted to the butt of his gun for the last one near him, barreling close with speed and slamming the metal into the gut of his opponent. When Hutt doubled over in pain, Paz’s knee came up and the man went down hard on the ground. With the man on the ground, Paz only had to fire once to finish the job. 

When Paz turned, Din’s opponents were on the ground too, blood staining the dirt from that wiry man who had not gotten to finish his last meal. The leader was not dead, however, however, trying to crawl away into the forest. Din took a few steps and caught up to her slow crawl away, flipping her over onto her back and aiming the gun point-blank at her face. 

“Give me the location.” 

“I…” she grunted, “I don’t know where they are.”

Din’s teeth clenched so hard it hurt. 

She grunted as she shifted and reached into her pocket to pull out an older phone, probably only used for these types of jobs. “You can ask them yourself,” she handed it over and Din snatched it away, the gun still pointed. “Mando,” she pleaded, “you don’t have to do this. I’ll bring word to my employers,” she grunted, “I’ll let them know we’re square – “

Din pulled the trigger and stepped away from the body.

He was eerily calm, for Paz’s tastes. He thought he would have liked him raging a little more – he knew it had to be a lot. To be waiting with bated breath for the worst news possible. 

Din held the other phone in his hand, finding the same number that had texted Tycho’s phone and a message from it with the same photo of you. The words underneath making the dread give way to the old anger he had been sitting with for a day now: 

**No word yet. How long should we wait it out?**

You were being held for money, he had to remind himself if he kept up the pace his odds of finding you alive were still good. Paz was watching him closely, he knew it, they had a different way of doing things but he had followed his lead thus far. 

“They sent a picture.” 

“Is she alive?”

“Yes,” Din said. “I’m arranging a trade-off, they’ll give us the location.”

He sent off the message he could from the Hutt leader’s phone. A confirmation that Tycho had shown up to the Hutts with the money and that they would be showing up to retrieve you as soon as possible. They would trust the word of the Hutts more than they would Tycho’s, he just hoped it was convincing enough.

It was awful, waiting. Paz checked his own phone, seeing if there was any news from the Covert or from Syala. Din was sitting and watching the phone for a response for a few minutes and Paz was ready to snatch the thing out of his hand. 

“Watching it won’t make the response come faster,” he reminded him. “Sit down,” he gestured to many newly occupied seats around the campfire, only a few with blood on them, “rest as much as you can. We don’t know how long we’ll be riding.” 

Din didn’t want to listen, he knew he needed backup, but part of him wanted to do this alone. Paz’s presence meant that whatever he felt necessary to do would probably be reported back, or that he might have some kind of comment about it. Din wasn’t really used to anyone coming along with him, to begin with, and under the circumstances, he just wanted to do things his way. 

“Vod,” Paz said. 

“I’m fine,” Din responded. 

There was silence after that. Paz settled himself down into one of the seats and grabbed the nearest gun that never got fired off from one of the bodies. It was nothing special, but he examined it anyway. 

“If anyone took Syala, or the kids,” Din started after a heavy pause, “what would you do?”

The blue visor looked back at his silver one, it only took a beat but he said, “I’d burn down everything in my path to get them back.” Paz tilted his head to the side and stared at Din, “I imagine that’s what we’re going to do here.” 

“And if it starts a war?”

“They broke the treaty first,” Paz said. “They’ve encroached on territories all over the world. Now they’ve gone too far. If we don’t protect what’s ours it’ll be the Empire all over again.” 

Din nodded and let himself sit down with Paz. There was no move to be made until a response came, but he couldn’t help but feel restless still. The violence of the shootout didn’t satisfy anything except his need to get further in finding you. He didn’t think it would go away until he did. 

There was a buzzing and he immediately opened up the text from the kidnappers: a time and place and the expectation of payment from the Hutts. The kidnappers were ready to get their bounty and move on to the next job. The location was not too far off from D’Qar, but a distance away from Nevarro. It would only take them an hour or so to get there, but the drop off wasn’t going to happen until the morning. 

“We should find somewhere to sleep,” Paz suggested. 

Din wasn’t sure he’d be able to sleep at all, “we know where she is, we can go get her now.”

“We’ve been riding all day,” Paz said, “we’ve just finished a fight. They can’t kill her, not when they think it’ll lose them their payment.”

It wasn’t just about finding you dead or alive, though. It was about how scared you were, what if you were injured? What else would they do to you if he waited? 

“Tomorrow will be a long day,” Paz tried to reason with him, “how can you help her if you can’t keep yourself on your bike?”

Paz knew, in his heart, that he would be just as inconsolable and impatient were the positions switched. But he hoped Din would be the same voice of reason for him. Paz cared, of course, that you were in some unfamiliar place and in danger, but he was able to think more clearly than Din who was behaving more and more like the man he was before Junior. Quiet, ready to do things alone, and not caring much about anything but getting the job done. 

“At least try to get some rest,” Paz said sternly. 

“We leave at first light,” Din said in compromise. 

Paz nodded his head once before they put out the fire and started walking back towards the road to settle in near their bikes. They left the bodies behind and made the trek in the dark. It was quiet in the forest, except for a few rustling sounds from animals and night birds. They each chose a tree and leaned back against it, one taking watch while the other tried to rest.

At some point after his watch, exhaustion drove Din to sleep, his helmeted head leaning back against the tree and his arms folded over his chest. He started to drift off thinking of how much you would love this: sleeping on the forest floor and seeing the stars peek through the canopy. 

There was so much he wanted to do with you and he was not ready to give up hope that you would still want to do any of it with him once he saved you. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mando'a translations (sorry if I missed some in former chapters!):  
> buir - mother/father/parent  
> di'kut - idiot, useless individual, waste of space  
> vod - brother


	12. Eyes on Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The moment he had seen your face he was so grateful you were alive that for a moment, all of the anger faded away. But you looked so much worse off than the last photo that had been sent. Din felt the white-hot heat of rage coursing through him; it was the way you looked almost unrecognizable now, the way she had thrown you to the ground, and the way the man had spoken about you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for this chapter: graphic violence, GRAPHIC descriptions of injuries and blood, language, derogatory name-calling (and not in a sexy way whatsoever), guns, cigarettes, fire, dark-ish!mando, angst, death.

Paz was up before Din, eating some jerky as the skies first started to lighten up. He had the fleeting thought to text Syala and see how she was doing, but he was not quite ready to know the answer yet. She had handed him Jido, which was supposed to be the highest gesture of trust he had been waiting for, but the terms were not quite what he had imagined. 

Right now he had one objective, and things could be sorted out after you were brought home safely. 

He waited until he was done eating so that he could put his helmet on before he shook Din’s shoulder. “Wake up, brother, the sun’s almost up.” 

Din jolted awake, reaching for his gun until he recognized the man before him. “What time is it?”

“Not quite sunrise.”

“I thought we agreed at first light?” Din asked, suddenly awake and seeing the lightening sky through the treetops. 

Paz sighed. “Don’t start that this early. Eat and piss so we can get on the road.”

His stomach churned with hunger the moment Paz mentioned eating. They had not stopped at all the day before and he was feeling the emptiness of his stomach now that he was awake after a decent rest. The desire to get to you was too great for him to think of eating before, but now he couldn’t help but acknowledge the hollow feeling in his stomach. 

He would do you no good if he was too tired and famished to keep himself upright on the bike.

Din grunted as he stood from his position leaning against the tree, his back ached from the ride and sleeping sitting against the hard bark of the tree, but he had slept through worse. He disappeared further in the woods to take off the helmet and vest before he came back to grab something out of the saddlebag on his bike. He scarfed it down quickly, checking his phone at the same time. 

No updates on either bogarted phone in his possession and nothing from Syala on his personal one. He’d have to dispose of Tycho’s somehow since it was essentially useless to him now. 

It was a little later than he wanted but they were on the road before the sun was high, and he knew Paz was purposely taking a little extra time to force him to rest up. The day was going to be long and a night’s sleep had been nice, even if he was feeling a twinge in his back and neck from sleeping the way he had, but the longer he was awake the more restless he felt. 

He was going to get you back today and there was little Paz could do to make him take any more time to care for himself. 

* * *

The night before, Barada had finally gotten Yaruck calmed down from her violent rage when they received the message from their Hutt contact and it helped in convincing her to leave you alone the rest of the night. The trade-off was happening tomorrow, mid-morning, which was fine for the two of them because the quicker a job got done the sooner they could move on to another one. 

This particular quarry had been a little more dangerous than he had expected, one doesn’t hear “flower shop owner” and assume that the mark is going to try to shoot them or cause much trouble at all but he’d been in the business long enough to expect the unexpected. 

The two underground hunters were spending their money before they received it, planning out what to buy and where to start looking for their next job. 

Where they stayed was technically a safehouse: an abandoned building in the middle of nowhere on the side of the road. On the outside, it looked like a rundown gas station, but the place hadn’t been that for years. The inside was gutted of any kind of equipment to make room for cots and stores of food, and the back room was where they kept their quarries if they were alive. 

Barada woke up first and took his time in the morning. A hotplate with boiled water and some instant coffee in his traveling mug was what he needed before he dealt with you or Yaruck this early. He paired it with a cigarette, standing by one of the windows and peeking through a curtain at the distance of endless roads. There had been one car so far, and they hadn’t even slowed down when they passed the gas station. 

Once he was done he made his way to the backroom with some water and some of the bread you had refused the night before and opened the door. You were in the same position they had left you in but your breaths came in short huffs even as you slept. 

“Get up,” He grumbled. When you made no move, he nudged you with his foot. “Wake up.”

You startled with a gasp of pain. His foot had nudged into one of your ribs which were probably bruised, maybe broken, and all you could manage were short breaths, or else the pain was unbearable. You didn’t remember falling asleep but you woke up in a confused and painful haze. Not yet realizing he was there you whimpered into the floorboards, and grit your teeth as your throat still hurt with every sound you made as well. 

“You want water?” 

You managed to turn your head to look up at him and nodded. 

With a decent grunt, he got to his knees next to you and helped you sit up. Your arms hurt from being behind your back for two nights now, in fact, you didn’t think there was part of you that didn’t hurt. Your face, your head, your throat, your ribs, back, arms and legs were all aching in pain for one reason or another. You couldn’t see out of one eye due to swelling but you looked at him anyway, trying to blink away the blurriness from a sleep born of pure exhaustion. You were somehow still so tired.

“If I untie your hands, are you gonna keep them to yourself?” He asked. “I don’t need a fight this early in the morning.” 

You nodded your head in agreement. You had enough of talking back after Yaruck’s very aggressive response to it the night before, Barada was much bigger than her and you didn’t want to find out what it felt like when he used force. It might also gain you some relief in your arms and shoulders and you would do almost anything for the smallest amount of comfort. 

He shifted you and was back there for a while untying whatever knots you were in until you felt the pressure give way and you could relax your arms again. A sigh of relief came through your lips as it happened, and you gently stretched them out, wincing when moving a certain way made your ribs twinge.

He handed you the water and the bread was also placed in your reach. “You’re leaving us today.”

You almost choked on the water, the cold wash of fear over you making you instantly alert and awake. “What does that mean?” You rasped out, ignoring the way your throat protested at the sounds. 

“Your brother paid his debt,” Barada said blandly, “we’re trading you off to the Hutts today so they can bring you to him.”

You didn’t look at him as you tore off a small piece of bread and put it in your mouth. That didn’t really make sense to you. Tycho was broke and he had no one else to get the money from. You were afraid your face would give that away, so you just chewed with your eyes aimed downward. There was a little spark of hope – Din had to have something to do with it, there was no other explanation. 

“I’m gonna walk you to the bathroom,” Barada told you, “stay quiet and try not to piss off Yaruck on your way there or you’ll have more bruises before you leave.”

You nodded and let him help you up to your feet. At first, you thought they might give out. Exhaustion and lack of food and water for the past twenty-four hours worked against you, but you managed to get the bearing of walking after getting to your feet. 

You finally got a look at where you were being held beside the small back room. It used to be a shop of some kind, but it had been gutted and was pretty sparsely furnished. All of the windows were covered with wooden boards or thick fabric. 

Yaruck eyed you as you walked by, but you kept yourself from looking at her at all. 

“Good morning, blossom,” she called out. 

“Don’t start,” Barada warned, and continued walking you toward the restroom.

The bathroom was old, dingy, and had a foul smell but you weren’t expecting much from it. Barada gave you five minutes to do what you needed to do before he was going to open the door again. When you caught a peek of yourself in a broken and dirty mirror on the wall, you realized you looked about as bad as you felt. One of your eyes was swollen shut and that was just the most obvious sign that you were in pain. 

You barely recognized yourself. Even on your roughest mornings you hadn’t looked this disheveled and defeated. It had been almost a day and a half since you had been taken, but it felt like weeks. The hours never seemed so long as they did when you were alone in the dark, in pain, scared, and not sure if you were ever going to see Din or Junior or Syala or any of the kids again.

Part of you could not contain the desperate hope in your heart that it was Din on his way to pick you up right now, but the other part of you kept reminding you that you weren’t going to be really safe until he or someone else did. A lot could happen in such a short time, as you had learned the hard way, and your rescue was not entirely guaranteed. 

After you were finished in the bathroom, Barada opened the door and tied your hands again, this time in front of you which was a small blessing for your aching back. He left the bread and the water so you could eat and shut the door behind him. All you could do then was wonder and wait.

* * *

The sun was rising on one side of them when they finally made it out of the forested area of D’Qar. It hadn’t been a straight shot out of the forest: they had to refuel before they took off again and Din picked up his speed once the road stopped winding. 

Paz was cursing to himself, bemoaning that Din was likely to crash his bike at the reckless pace he was going, but he wasn’t about to be left behind in the dust. As the rest of the world started to wake, Paz was sure the buzzing in his pocket was Syala trying to get an update of the situation or maybe even someone from the Covert with any info that might have come through since word was still out that you were missing. 

It was a long straight road to you in the middle of nowhere and Din was so close. Some of the anger had faded, and he boiled it down to the fact that he would see you today and he would get you somewhere safe before the sun even went down again. In the picture from the night before, you were scared and maybe a little roughed up from whatever struggle there had been, but he knew with a group like the Hutts it could have been so much worse. 

There was water and some food and a few first aid supplies in him and Paz’s saddlebags, he could at least do something to make you as comfortable as he could before he got you out of there. All he needed to do was get to you, take out your kidnappers and get you back to the Covert where you would be safest as the fallout from this started to reveal itself. 

He wasn’t sure what was going to happen with the Hutts, technically they were on neutral territory when Din and Paz killed them, but he couldn’t worry about that until you were safe. 

They had planned ahead of time. The situation was going to be a little volatile, and there was no way to go in guns blazing without risking you getting caught in the crossfire. He’d have to go in and assess where you were exactly before he took any action, that meant he’d need to be sure not to startle the bounty hunters. You were still in their grasp and that meant they had leverage, and Din had to quell any outbursts of anger because the priority was to get you home.

Din and Paz pulled up to the designated location, an old gas station, and the pipes of the bikes were the signal of their arrival. They took in the state of the place before them. Rundown and easy to overlook; how many times had they passed by a similar abandoned building before? He would have never thought to look for you there. 

“There has to be a back door,” Paz suggested eyeing the boarded front entrance, “maybe we can go in through a window.”

“We have no way of knowing where she is in there,” Din warned. “We can’t just barge in and start a shootout.”

“I don’t like sneaking up without knowing their vantage points,” Paz said back. 

“We’ll go around the back.”

The stolen phone in his pocket from the Hutt footmen went off and he took a deep breath as he reached in to grab it and see it was the bounty hunter’s number: **We have two Mandalorians outside the safe house. Might need backup.**

“Stick to the plan,” Din told Paz and started texting back on the stolen phone. 

Paz nodded his head once in agreement, “have they noticed us yet?”

“They know we’re here.” 

* * *

Yaruck was bored of waiting by the time the sun fully came up, and Barada was standing guard of where you were held. She was not allowed in there because he just wanted this job done and over with, and he didn’t want to deal with her ‘games’ as he called it. The quarry was to be handed over alive and she had done enough damage already. 

In a huff, she had crept out of the back door and lit a cigarette. Barada was a good business partner but he was no fun at all and you at least kept her on her toes. The desert was boring and she hated waiting. She heard the rumble of a motorcycle approaching on the road and made sure to keep out of sight of the road behind the safehouse. 

The Hutt footmen usually showed up in a caravan for these kinds of pickups, something big enough to grab the quarry or merchandise and the protection of others on bikes. If it was their contact she would have already been notified of their arrival. People were bound to pass by every now and then on the open road, and she didn’t think much of it.

Until the sound got closer and closer. And stayed close before the rumbling was cut off abruptly. 

Frowning, she checked her phone for any messages, and seeing none she snuck around the side of the building. She edged towards the front, peaking around and seeing two bikes parked only about 50 feet from the door. It was two people, climbing off the bikes she had heard, and when the larger one turned to grab an automatic rifle off of a horizontal holster on their bike she spotted the Mythosaur patch.

Narrowing her eyes, she quickly ran back towards the back door, slipped inside, and locked the door. She stormed to the one small window covered by a cloth rather than boards and peeked around it to watch. They were talking to each other, pointing to different areas of the building. 

“Fuck. Fuck!” Yaruck cursed. “Barada!” 

Barada looked up from whatever the hell he was doing, “what now, Yaruck?”

“There’s a couple of fucking Mandalorians outside,” she hissed. 

“What?” Barada frowned, lifting himself up and bringing himself over to the same window. He peeked out and gave a low rumbling noise. “Text that Hutt woman – Jysell. Tell them we’re gonna need some backup – don’t let the Mandos see you, you got that?”

“I knew this job was a bad idea,” Yaruck said frantically. “Working on Mandalorian territory, we should have charged way more.” 

“Quiet, and text her,” Barada demanded. “We might have to move locations for the pickup.” 

Yaruck pulled her phone out and started furiously typing, not seeing Barada start to load his gun and start turning off various electronics around the room. She hit send and peeked out of the window again, waiting for any word back while Barada prepared for the worst. 

The phone buzzed not too long after, another message that read: **Your bounty is under Mandalorian protection. Bring her out now.**

Yaruck stared at the words, then back to the Mandalorians outside. No way in hell. She called the number and watched the one with the silver helmet examine a phone in his hand and press a button on the screen the exact same time she was sent to voicemail. 

“Barada!” She shrieked. “There is no pickup, we’ve been fucking made – they’re saying she’s under their protection!”

Barada heaved a sigh, and there was a tense silence as he rubbed at the bridge of his nose while he thought out their options, “we can make a deal.”

Yaruck didn’t like the sound of that at all. She started typing on the phone.

Barada caught her doing so, “what are you doing? What are you saying, Yaruck?”

She ignored him and hit send. “Grab her. Knock her out, and get a gun.” 

“Yaruck, these are Mandalorians.”

“There’s only two of them!” She insisted. 

“There’s only two of them right now,” Barada said seriously. “You mess with one of them, you have the rest of them breathing down your neck for the rest of your life.”

Yaruck cursed under her breath and stormed towards where you were being held. You jumped at the sudden sound of the door being opened and sucked in a sharp breath, you immediately regretted doing so when your ribs twinged. Hastily, Yaruck came around to grab your face. Her fingers pressed into bruises, cuts, and swollen flesh and you cried out at the added pain. 

“You want to tell me why there’s not one, but _two_ Mandalorian’s outside of my safe house right now?”

You had thought you had heard a motorcycle through the thin walls but had willed yourself not to get your hopes up that it was him. It could have just as easily been some other gang, the Hutts rode bikes too sometimes and you were not about to let yourself get carried away with the thought that Din was outside and ready to take you home. But when she said it, you could have burst into tears of joy right there. 

“He came for me,” you said, breathlessly, mostly to yourself. “He made it in time.”

Panic washed over Yaruck’s face, and then something darker. “He doesn’t have you yet, sweetheart,” she growled, gripping your face tighter, “and you’re not going to make this any messier than it already is.” 

You didn’t even feel the pain when the butt of her gun made contact with your temple, it just went black and you went limp. 

* * *

The phone buzzed in Din’s hand and he looked down at it and the message he received said: **come and get her.**

He was brimming with energy, the anticipation making his fingers clench in and out of fists, but he reminded himself again that he needed to be calm. There was no doubt in his mind that he and Paz could take these kidnappers, but there was the added danger of you getting hurt in the process. He needed to be clear-headed. 

They made their way around to the back door, being sure to keep an eye on any covered windows they passed, and making sure they were quick to move. The door was locked. Paz grunted, readied himself, and then rammed into it with his shoulder experimentally. There was a little bit of a give but the door wasn’t going to budge like that. He backed up and used his leg, aiming the heel of his boot near the keyhole where the wood was most likely to give. There was a solid thud and crunch as the door cracked open. 

Din went in first, gun drawn and aimed but finding only an empty hallway. Beside him, Paz was readying his rifle. 

“No deals, vod,” Paz reminded him. “You get them out of the way where she’s not in the line of fire. I’ll be waiting right here – if one shot goes off before then –”

“I know,” Din said. 

It was eerily quiet and as of yet no one had revealed themselves, so Din took the first steps into the building. The hallway wasn’t long but it had a lot of blind spots, he ducked his head into a storeroom, finding it empty except for some canned food, and then roughly opened the door to a bathroom finding it also empty. 

He turned back to the door where Paz was and the blue helmet dipped once in a nod. It made him nervous, the idea of a shootout without knowing where you were in the building. As he came around the corner into the wide-area that used to be a storefront, he was greeted by not one but two people who were armed across the room. 

The man had his gun pointed at Din, and the woman had her gun aimed at a limp figure in her grasp. It was you, barely held up by the two other people and with some kind of cloth sack over your head. His heart began to pound in his chest and his fingers twitched, you were _right there_. 

“Let her go,” Din said, ready to start forward.

“Don’t move, Mando,” said the man, Barada. 

“You take another step, I’ll blow her fucking brains out,” Yaruck hissed. When the Mandalorian stopped in his tracks, she lowered her voice, “where’s the other one? I saw two Mandalorians pull up.”

“Waiting,” Din said, his voice a steady tone as he tried to reign in any emotions he was feeling. The time to lash out was not while the barrel of a gun was pressed to your head, “he’s ready to report back to the other Mandalorians if she and I don’t make it out of here. There’s no place you’ll be able to hide, the Hutts won’t help you, the New Republic won’t help you. It’ll be you two against all of us.”

Yaruck’s nostrils flared at the threat.

“We meant no offense, grabbing her,” Barada said evenly before his partner could respond and make matters worse, “it’s just business, she was just the name on our list. You understand business, don’t you Mando?”

“You came onto our territory,” Din responded, “and grabbed someone under our protection. You made a bad deal.” 

“It’s not like she was wearing a patch,” Barada said, trying to sound reasonable, he lowered his weapon a little, “you Mandos should start branding your pets, then we wouldn’t have this problem.”

Din was quickly losing his patience, and scowling behind the silver visor of the helmet. “ _Let her go,_ ” Din said slowly. “We killed the Hutts you were working with – you aren’t getting paid but if you let her go, I’ll let you leave this room alive.” 

“How can we trust you?” Yaruck snarled.

“You have my word,” Din said. “Put her down and walk away.” 

“Clear our way,” Yaruck demanded.

Din sidestepped slowly, giving them some room to walk through the hallway he had just come from. They moved as he did a slow trek around the room with their backs to the door as they entered the hallway with your feet dragged limply along the wood flooring. Din lowered his gun and with that move of surrender, Yaruck threw you to the ground and turned with Barada to bolt towards the door. 

It took him two long strides to get to you, immediately kneeling next to you on the ground but you weren’t moving at all. He said your name, a hoarse and desperate noise before he took the sack off of your head. You were out cold, but you were breathing. 

The moment he had seen your face he was so grateful you were alive that for a moment, all of the anger faded away. Din took in your appearance, a swollen eye, and the shallow way you were breathing. You looked so much worse off than the last photo that had been sent. Din felt the white-hot heat of rage coursing through him; it was the way you looked almost unrecognizable now, the way she had thrown you to the ground, and the way the man had spoken about you. 

He heard a commotion in the hallway and he knew Paz had stopped their retreat. Din pressed his helmet gently to your forehead as your head lolled back limply in his grip. He kept from tightening his grip on you before he laid you gently back down on the ground and stood up again. 

You were breathing and were safe, he could figure out how to help you after he finished business.

In the hallway, Barada and Yaruck had made it to the door But Paz was waiting for them. He blocked the doorway, seeing the woman first and she gasped when the way was blocked and Paz had a very big gun aimed at them. Paz flipped the rifle and hit her hard with the butt of the rifle across the face. When she didn’t immediately go down he hit her again until she was grounded. Barada went to shoot while this transpired in front of him, his gun aimed before he even made it all the way through the hallway but before he could get the trigger pulled he was yanked back. 

There was a gunshot and some of the ceiling’s molding crumbled onto the ground. Din had Barada’s wrist in his grip, aiming the gun towards the ceiling and after it went off a few times he slammed the man into the wall, twisting his wrist until the gun clattered loudly to the floor. Din kneed him in the stomach, and Barada made a guttural squawk in pain before he collapsed onto the floor, wheezing for breath and trying to grab his gun as he coughed. 

Din was above him before his fingers even felt the metal, he flipped him over and started bringing his fists down. For every minute he had been scared he’d never see you again, his fist made contact with skin – feeling blood and bone give way. And then more for every bruise and scratch, they had inflicted. Barada attempted to punch back when he wasn’t reeling from the pain or shock of the impact, but blood was getting in his eyes and when he threw his fist it just made contact with the hard surface of the motorcycle helmet. 

And Din didn’t stop, grunt after grunt, he couldn’t stop bringing his fist down even when Barada stopped moving. 

Your head hurt. Well, everything still hurt, but there was a pain at the side of your head that was new. Carefully you lifted your body up and took in your surroundings, disoriented and confused when you heard a short yelp and a hard thud. 

Looking around, you saw you weren’t in the little storeroom anymore, and when you turned towards the sound you saw the vest before anything else. You were never more relieved to see that fucking mythosaur skull in your life.

The Mandalorian was hovering over someone, Barada maybe judging by what you could see of legs and arms flailing, and Din’s fists were coming down in heavy and continuous thuds. You heard the grunts before you heard anything else. 

Gently you got yourself to your feet and started to crawl towards him, trying to call out to him but he didn’t seem to hear you. The closer you got the more blood you saw until you were right over Din’s shoulder watching as he lifted his fist and brought his hands down onto Barada’s face – beaten beyond recognition and just as limp and lifeless as his body. 

“Din,” you said hoarsely. “Din, please! Stop, he’s already –” you put your hand on his shoulder.

In a flurry of movement, he turned on you, fist raised with the adrenaline of the moment making him perceive any shock as a threat. You flinched back, toppling onto the ground and scrambling away from him, before your hands came up to protect yourself. His hand fell to his side after a short second where he realized it was you and not a threat trying to sneak up on him. 

He just sat there on his knees staring at you, his shoulders heaving with heavy breaths.

Since he wore the helmet, all you could see was the somewhat distorted reflection of yourself. You weren’t sure what to do. All you wanted was for him to grab you and tell you it was okay, but he was just staring at you from behind the helmet. The blind rage had given way to a painfully clear vision along with his guilt as he processed what he had almost done. 

He wanted to reach out and touch you – beg forgiveness and promise he would have never raised his hand if he knew it was you. His eyes lowered to his gloved hands the leather was stained with fresh blood. 

You shifted a little. You hadn’t meant to sneak up on him, and you flinched before you could think. Your eyes moved past him to Paz who had dutifully turned away from the scene before him. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean –” your voice was soft and cracking, you winced with every word, and when you moved you hissed in pain, tied hands coming to your ribs, “to scare you.”

The damage was even more than he could see and that was already bad enough. And you were apologizing to him? He moved closer to you, ripping off the gloves and throwing them aside. 

“You need a healer. Can I touch you?” he asked softly, almost incoherent from under the helmet. 

You nodded.

Gently he tipped your face towards him, assessing the damage there and then your throat where you winced a little at his touch before he got to your ribs. Obviously the most tender part of you at the moment, instinctively you flinched from his touch and grunted in pain. 

“Anything broken?” He asked as he went to your wrists, rubbed raw from being tied for so long but he reached into his boot and cut you free. 

“Maybe the ribs,” you admitted, not looking at him or the spatter of blood that you noticed was on the helmet. “Just bumps and bruises otherwise.”

“Can you make it back to the Covert?” he asked. “It’s a long ride, a few hours at least.” 

It sounded awful, but going to a hospital meant questions and you weren’t sure what had happened before he got here. If you went somewhere besides the Covert would it put him at risk? 

“I can make it,” you said, not certain you were being honest but ready to try. 

Yaruck blinked back to consciousness, hearing voices in hushed tones. She looked ahead of her and found the larger Mandalorian’s back was turned. She was fucked: she was going to die here regardless and the last bit of spite in her wanted to take at least one of the three culprits with her. 

Her gun wasn’t too far from her, and when she looked back she saw Barada, beaten to a pulp, and the silver helmeted Mandalorian hovering over you. As gently and quietly as she could, she grabbed her gun. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw movement and looked to see Yaruck’s hand slowly moving towards a discarded gun on the ground. You didn’t have time to think you just said, “Din!”

It happened so fast you barely understood what happened. Din turned to look in the same direction you were, and Yaruck was racking the pistol. You heard the metal slide against each other from her gun and then just as she took aim there was a shot. Since you were watching her, you hadn’t seen the quick way Din had pulled a gun and aimed. 

There was a splatter of blood on the wall behind her, and you barely saw the hole in her head before she slumped face-first on the floor, a pool of blood quickly gathering beneath her.

You blinked a few times, processing what had just happened, and swallowed down on the lump in your throat. “Can we go now?” You asked, in a small voice.

Din nodded his head, he holstered his gun and grabbed his gloves to shove them in his pocket before he got to his feet and helped you up. It was not quite the reunion you imagined, but you took comfort in his hands staying on you – either helping you stay up, holding your hand, and gently guiding you – as the only sense of comfort you could get. 

“A helmet’s not gonna feel nice with those bruises,” Paz said once you got closer to him. Unbothered by the display of violence and gore before him. 

“Nice to see you too, Paz,” you said gently, stepping over Yaruck’s body and walking out of the hallway.

The sun was fully up now, an otherwise quiet morning despite the sudden outburst of violence that had just taken place. You reveled in the warmth of it on your skin, happy to see the outside for the first time since you had been taken. It was still disorienting since you had no clue where you were but the fresh air was nice. 

Once you made it to the bike’s, Din offered you dried meats and water before he handed you a helmet. You shook your head, only taking the water because he insisted upon it. There were a few moments where Paz was nowhere to be seen while Din did what he could with a first aid kit. Trying to at least make you as comfortable as he could.

His fingers lingered on your jaw, finding the one spot where there were no bruising or cuts. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” you said gently. “Is everyone else okay? Syala, the kids – Tycho?”

The blankness of the helmet and his silence didn’t give you a lot of confidence. “We can talk about that later,” Din said, “we need to get you to a healer.”

“Din, I – you were right, I should have – ”

“Cyare, don’t,” he said, “just let me get you somewhere safe.”

You nodded before you slipped the helmet over your head. Paz was right, it did squeeze at some tender parts of your face but you just wanted to be as far from here as possible.

There was a loud roar and flash of heat that made you jump, and you looked over to find a very quickly growing flame beginning to envelop the gas station. Paz was watching his handiwork, making sure the flames wouldn’t die out before he came back to the bikes. 

“We should get moving.”

You watched as the flames started to rise, eating away at the building. The bodies were still inside. All of this just to get you back and the two Mandalorians didn’t seem bothered by it whatsoever. 

Din helped you onto the bike and you were all on the road before the old gas station was even fully in flames.

As the bike rumbled beneath you and the wind started whipping around you, something boiled over. You were thankful that neither Paz, Din, or anyone else passing by on the road would be able to see you as you cried. 

You pressed your face into the leather of his vest, the top of your helmet bumping into his slightly as you took him in. It hurt to wrap your arms tighter around him, but you did it anyway because he was right there, he found you, and even if there was a lack of warmth from the helmet when you had first seen him you could feel him there. 

Unexpectedly, you felt warmth as he pulled a still gloveless hand away from one of the handlebars to squeeze your hands where they were locked around him. He let it linger there for a moment.

You cried, still, but they were mostly tears of joy as the flames disappeared into the distance behind you. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a translations:  
> vod -- brother


	13. Mistaken for Strangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cold panic was rushing through you again. Stuck in a small dark room with people you didn’t trust or know - it was too similar. You attempted to sit up on the gurney, only to be pushed back down. Not roughly, but firmly enough that you couldn’t fight back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point, Ao3 is now caught up with where I'm at on tumblr! New Chapter coming soon. I am still considering adding the One-Shots here, but headcanons, art and other goodies are all on my tumblr (linked in notes below). 
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: A hospital-like setting, the Mandalorian healers’ liberal use of pain meds lmao (which includes a shot but it is barely described), angst, non-sexual nudity, language, and very loose descriptions of trauma responses.

The ride was damn near unbearable, and when the adrenaline of the fight had worn off you were in so much pain that your relieved tears had quickly turned to those of pain. Every bump in the road made you whimper, the sound lost beneath the pipes of the bike and the wind whipping past you. Din’s back was tense and board straight, in comparison to Paz’s leisurely demeanor on his own bike when you looked over to him. 

Your grip around him was tight, and he felt your hands shake strain every time you were jostled and your hands clenched even tighter. There was nothing he could do to help you, if he slowed down it made the trip longer and if he sped up he was worried it would be an even rougher journey. The best he could do was maintain speed and keep moving so you could get to safety and to a healer who would have something to give you for pain. 

He couldn’t even talk you through it. Not that he was confident he knew how, but anything would have been better than just knowing you were right behind him in pain and having to just let you deal with it. 

At some point he had to stop, pulling over and keeping the bike upright so Paz, who had stopped a few feet away when he saw Din’s signal, could help you off of the bike before he stood it up. The motorcycles were convenient for speed and important to his way of life – but he was increasingly aware of how inconvenient they were for rescues or having any kind of passenger that wasn’t a quarry. 

Paz helped you sit, as you leaned against a guard rail and cradled your ribs. One of the cuts on your face was bleeding and Din reached for the first-aid kit again to help clean it up. 

“You’re alright,” Paz promised. “We are more than halfway there.”

“How long is that?” you wheezed.

“About another hour,” he replied.

You winced, eyes clenched shut against an onslaught of tears as you nodded, trying hard to just toughen up and deal with it. 

“There’s a hospital closer,” Din said. “I’m taking you there.” 

“No,” you said, quickly and then took a moment to recompose yourself. “We just left two dead bodies in a burning building in the middle of the desert. I’m sure the cops showed up to my shop after – “ you shook your head a little before continuing on, “if we go to the hospital there’ll be questions.”

Din was looking at you from behind the helmet, ready to stubbornly ignore everything you had said because he didn’t care about the questions. He wasn’t going to put you through another hour of pain to avoid trouble with the police.

“She’s right,” Paz said firmly. “No way that Republic office cleared your warrant yet,” he said, “one night alone in the wrong prison is dangerous for a Mandalorian, ner vod.” 

“What Republic officer?” You asked. 

Din’s jaw was clenched so tightly under his helmet that he felt the effort to open his mouth to speak. “Later.” 

There was an awkward silence as Din replaced a band-aid on your face, and you looked away from him to glance up at Paz. 

The blue helmet dipped once in a nod. “She can make it the hour.”

You nodded too, looking at Din. “I can,” you promised. 

He didn’t say anything. Just put the first-aid kit away, and then came back to help you up slowly. He got the bike started, and Paz assisted you in getting onto the bike. You had to wait there with your arms around him, but there was no comforting touch from him. Din just sat there and waited, helpless and frustrated beyond belief, while he waited for Paz to take the lead ahead of you two. 

The jerk of the bike taking off made you grunt, but you braced yourself for the rest of the ride. 

* * *

Syala looked out the window again, seeing a crowd of children kicking around a ball and moving out of the way for the return of a single hunter. Closing the curtains, she went back to pacing. She had tried to keep herself busy but it was no use. Neither of the men could alert her to what was going on, the last message she had received was from the night before and since then she was slowly losing her mind. 

Nessa was being incredibly helpful – she had forgone any time to play outside to help with the other kids. Lysa was stuck to her mother like glue, still reeling from the confusing past few days. Junior and Jido were as blissfully unaware as they could be – although the older boy fussed at night, probably missing his father and realizing that something was off. 

This was the worst-case scenario – the thing she had been afraid of. With her and the kids inside the Covert she was less scared, but every time she had to leave she checked over her shoulder. She was grateful it wasn’t any of the kids, but she wished she had warned you of the real risks earlier. She wished she had backed Din up every time he told you that it was safer for you within the walls. 

There was a crash, and some crying and so she peeled herself away from the window to run towards the sound. When she came into the kid's room, Nessa was already cleaning up – a broken vase of flowers. 

“Junior pulled it down,” Nessa said, “it was an accident.” 

“Is everyone okay?” She asked frantically, checking the boys first for any cuts or glass stuck into the baby soft skin. 

“Yeah,” Lysa said, grabbing Jido and pulling him into her arms, wiping away a few giant tears. “Just startled.”

Syala took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she kneeled on the floor with the kids. Her nerves were shot. 

“I’m sorry, mommy, I should have watched him closer,” Nessa said softly. 

“Don’t worry,” Syala said evenly. “I’m not upset. You both have been _so_ helpful.” 

Lysa looked away guiltily. 

“And none of this is your fault,” Syala said. “Hey, Lysa, look at me,” when the little girl met her gaze she smiled as softly as she could, “it’s not your fault.” 

Lysa nodded, pressing her nose into her baby brother’s hair and giving him a little kiss. 

Junior was just wide-eyed, probably half expecting a scolding because as young as he was – he was aware of whenever he got into mischief. Syala grabbed him and pulled him in for a hug too. 

“It’s gonna be okay.” 

After a moment she started cleaning up the mess, a little grateful for something else to focus on. The past day and a half she had spent pacing and biting her nails, peeking out of the window for any sign of them. It took a while, and she may have been overzealous about searching for broken shards of glass and trying to make sure nothing was left behind but what else was she supposed to do while she waited? 

As she made her way to dispose of the broken vase, she sat down at the table and checked her phone again. No new messages, no missed calls. With a sigh, Syala rested her head in her hands on the table and tried to think of anything else. She planned the meals for the next few weeks in her head, made a mental shopping list, and tried to remember what lessons the kids were attending when all of this settled down. 

A knock at the door startled her, and she was out of her seat quickly, fast enough that it fell over as she sprinted to answer the door. 

* * *

When the walls came into view in the distance you let out a breath of relief. As you approached the gates, the Mandalorian guarding them let you all in swiftly and it wasn’t long before Din was parking the bike in the warehouse, Paz helping you off the bike so he could stand it up. Paz parted ways with you almost immediately, heading to Syala’s to inform her of your return and Din moved to your side to help you walk towards the infirmary. 

A few helmets were turned your way on the walk towards, and the closer you got to the large building at the farthest end of the Covert the less faces you saw. You had never been this far in before, always catching the glint of the mythosaur skull above the doorway in the distance but never journeying anywhere that Din or your nieces did not take you. 

He didn’t take you into the main building, the one with the skull above it instead veered off a little to the left to another entrance. The words above the door were in Mando’a and you couldn’t read them but the moment you walked in it was clear what this place was. 

It may have not been an official hospital, but it smelled remarkably similar to one. Endless doors lined the hallways, most of them shut but you heard the bustle of movement as many Mandalorians went about their business there. 

Pushing carts with medical equipment or transporting bed sheets, meeting in corridors to discuss a patient. The healers also covered their faces, wearing masks over their mouth and noses along with face shields that mostly obscured them from your view, their uniforms had patches identifying them as healers and revealing their ranks. You were approached by one the moment you entered, asking who you were and what your condition was.

Din answered for you. Explaining tersely, while you tried to take in your surroundings. You were exhausted and in pain, too out of it to care about the interaction happening in front of you. Another healer approached with a gurney and Din was helping you onto it before you realized what was going on, just going through the motions and trusting that if he was there then it was going to be fine. 

You were being rolled somewhere, and Din was keeping up pace as the gurney passed through indiscernible hallways. Instead of trying to track your location, you looked up at him, still not having seen his face since you were rescued and wishing you could. There was a sharp turn, and you were placed in a nondescript room – no windows, with dark brown walls, and although it was lit well it felt like you were being put into a box. 

At the door, one of the healers was blocking Din’s entry into the room.

“Din – “ you croaked out, “wait – don’t – “ 

Cold panic was rushing through you again. Stuck in a small dark room with people you didn’t trust or know - it was too similar. You attempted to sit up on the gurney, only to be pushed back down. Not roughly, but firmly enough that you couldn’t fight back. 

Din shoved past the Mandalorian at the door, saying something you didn’t understand and coming to your side, his hand sliding into yours. “I’ll be right outside the door,” he assured you, “you’re safe here. I promise.”

When he pulled away, holding your hand until he couldn’t anymore and he was ushered out of the door. The other Mandalorians had an onslaught of questions – what happened to you, what hurt, and how much. You tried to cooperate, even though every breath felt like you were fighting hard for it and the walls were starting to close in. Din said you were safe – he promised it – but it seemed the past few days were catching up to you.

Every desperate inhale of breath felt like agony. 

“You need to breathe.” One of them admonished. 

“It _hurts_.”

“Slow then,” she said, more gently, “slow and as deep as you can.”

You hissed as the other pressed some kind of disinfectant to your face that stung, shallow breaths keeping you as grounded as you could. After some more poking and prodding, they assured you that your injuries were not life-threatening and offered you something to take the edge off of the pain and put you to sleep. You agreed.

There was a prick in your arm, and then a slow descent into sleep – no longer worried about unfamiliar hands on you. 

* * *

When you are conscious again, there were a few seconds where you took in your surroundings. Bleary eyes only seeing a small room with no windows, all of it unfamiliar. Were you still in that storeroom? You jolted up in the bed, whimpering when the sudden movement made a sharp pain bloom through your side. 

You heard your name, a gruff voice as gentle as it could be, making your head whip towards the sound. Din was there, no helmet or vest, sitting in a chair nearby. He looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes and hair a rumpled mess atop his head. There was the slightest furrow of his brows as he looked at you, waiting for you to realize where you were. 

His face thrust you back into reality. You weren’t locked in some storeroom in a rundown gas station on the side of the road in the desert. You were within the Covert walls. Surrounded by Mandalorians.

“Hi,” you said, your voice hoarse from disuse as you willed your heart to stop pounding in your chest. “How long was I out?”

“You were in a lot of pain,” Din said back, “the healers gave you something so you could rest for the night.”

You nodded, remembering that much. As you got your wits about you, it was clear there was at least a little less pain than before. Your face felt less swollen even if you could still hardly see out of one eye, your ribs hurt still but for the most part, you felt okay. No aching limbs contorted at odd angles from being bound for hours, and your back was a little sore but much better off from sleeping on an actual bed. Gently, you laid back again and tried to even out your panicked breathing. 

You weren’t sure how to start talking, and he was just staring at you. After a few moments of terrible silence, you asked, “what happened?”

Din looked away from you then, sitting back in his chair and gently fidgeting his hands in and out of loose fists before he began the story. Some of it you already knew: Tycho borrowed money from the Hutts to pay off the child support he owed and then some but fell behind on payments. Looking for retribution, the Hutts first attempted to find Syala and the kids but when they were nowhere to be found they went for the next best bet at leverage: you. 

“How did you find me?” You asked.

“I have some friends in D’Qar, told me where some Hutts were camped out. They were the same ones in charge of getting your ransom.” Din said, “We got your location off of one of their phones. Set up a fake trade-off.”

You nodded your head and then forced yourself to ask the question you had been dreading an answer to. “And where’s Tycho?”

Din looked at you now, meeting your eyes, he seemed hesitant to answer. “Before we left for D’Qar some Republic officials showed up. There was a warrant out for him.”

You looked away from him, not wanting him to see the way tears immediately gathered in your eyes. “So he’s… locked up somewhere?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” You breathed. “Sorry, I shouldn’t – “ you stuttered as a sob tried to wrench it's way out of your mouth, “this was _his_ fault – I just – “ 

You wanted to say goodbye. Maybe it was foolish and naive of you, maybe you were too forgiving – your brother had almost gotten you killed. But you had been so worried about him for so long and now you had no idea where he was or if he was safe in whatever prison they took him to. 

Din didn’t know what to do as you slowly crumpled in front of him. It was, technically, his fault your brother was gone now. Din had handed him over himself, and he wouldn’t say he regretted it but he felt in no position to offer you comfort. Waiting outside your room, coming in to find out you had been scared to let any of the healers help you, and seeing you in pain and distraught over your brother - it was too much.

The crying hurt and the more worked up you got the worse your ribs hurt. Hearing the noise, a healer came in and asked if you wanted to rest again. When you nodded she left to grab whatever you needed and Din couldn’t move from his seat until whatever they gave you took hold and you started to get drowsy again. 

He stood up and went to the door. A very gentle, “I’m sorry,” was all he could offer before he left the room.

* * *

This time when you woke up you were alone. One of the healers bustled in a few minutes after you had risen and removed an ice pack for your ribs and face – offering you much less potent pain killers. There was not much else they could do for your injuries, it would take time and rest, but in case you needed it they were letting you stay in the room for another day. 

When you weren’t riled up by fear and adrenaline you recognized the level of care they gave you was comparable to any hospital outside of the walls. They were attentive and very good at their jobs, even if they weren’t really warm with their bedside manner. When you asked about Din they said he had not been back, and after they left the room you were alone in there for a while. 

That was the worst part. Being alone. You fidgeted with nothing to distract you, nervous energy making you want to get up and move around. Every time you heard footsteps outside your door you hoped it was him, but when it wasn’t you tried to reason with yourself. He had been away from Junior for a couple of days, and perhaps there was other work to be done when it came to the Hutts. He was probably just busy. 

When the door opened you sat up a little. It wasn’t Din, but Syala and you thought you might cry again at seeing her face. She seemed to have the same mindset, gently but quickly crawling onto the bed with you. She hugged you very gently and some places hurt when you went to hug her back but it felt too safe not to. Syala was warm and soft and familiar, and you needed that far more than you realized. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” you nodded, wiping away a tear. “Broken ribs and some bruising.” 

“Do you need anything?”

“No,” you said. “The healers are good here.”

“I’m so sorry this happened,” Syala sniffled.

You shrugged. You both knew whose fault it really was. 

“What happened out there?” she asked. 

You told her everything. The shootout at your store, waking up in that terrible place, and your eventful time with Yaruk. Some of it came back to you in pieces— little things you had forgotten, and talking it out made it all feel a little better somehow. It was hard to believe so much had happened in such a short time. You left out most of what you remembered about those final moments out there, trying hard not to think too much about Din’s absence and the way he had been so immersed in the fight you almost didn’t recognize him. 

“Were you scared?”

“Yeah,” you admitted. “Not scared enough to keep my mouth shut though, apparently.”

Syala laughed at that little. “I was worried.”

“I’d rather it have been me than you or the kids,” you admitted. 

“I’d rather it have been _none of us_ ,” Syala said seriously. 

You saw movement out of the corner of your eye and saw Paz’s frame crowd the doorway. “How are you?” He asked. 

“Fine,” you shrugged a little. “Still a little sore.” 

“And where is Din?”

“Haven’t seen him since yesterday,” you said as casually as you could. 

“Did you need something?” Syala asked the other man with a pointed stare at the mention of Din. 

There was a silence before Paz said, “I, uh … just wanted to check-in. I should get back to the kids. Hang in there.”

“Thank you,” you said, trying to thank him for a thousand things besides him checking on you. You looked to Syala, “can you stay? Just a little longer.”

Syala put her hand over yours, “I’ll stay as long as you want me to.”

* * *

Paz had promised the girls he’d go see you for himself and report back because they were worried and their mother had been gone for a couple of hours. They would be waiting for him but he headed over to Din’s door. His fist was heavy on the door, thudding loud enough to make it shake. He didn’t do it once or twice but kept a steady pace of pounding on the door until it flung open and Din was glowering at him on the other side. 

“Junior is napping.”

“You know who is awake?” Paz asked. 

“Don’t,” Din went to close the door again. 

Paz slammed his hand on the door and held it open. “Don’t be an idiot, ner vod.”

Din didn’t say anything. 

“You dragged me on a non-stop two-day ride, to a brothel and a camp full of Hutts in the middle of fucking nowhere to save _gar cyar’ika_ and you won’t even visit her?” 

“You did it for Syala, and you got to take out some Hutts,” Din said back. “I didn’t drag you anywhere.”

“Stop avoiding the point, mir’sheb,” Paz grumbled. 

“It’ll be easier if I leave her be, she’ll get over it,” he said back. “She isn’t meant for this life, and I almost – “

“You’re being noble,” Paz mocked, “and stupid. She’s a big girl, she can decide what life she’s meant for.” Paz’s fist came out to roughly bump into Din’s shoulder before he began to walk away. 

“Where are you going?”

“Getting my house in order,” Paz said over his shoulder. “You should do the same.”

* * *

Syala had stayed well into the night to keep you company, but eventually, she also had to leave. Her absence was a little harder to deal with than you cared to admit. You had spent all those hours alone in that tiny room, bound and beaten. Although you were comfortable and safe, it still felt like the room was too small and too quiet. 

The next morning you woke up when a healer came into your room and shut the door behind him, you were groggy and still alarmed at waking up in such an unfamiliar place. You calmed down when he started the morning routine for the past couple of days, giving you your meds and having you sit up to eat and drink. He asked about a thousand questions about how you were feeling before he nodded and went to open the door and told someone you were ready. 

Din came into the doorway, and you perked up at seeing him. You said a gentle hello but he only nodded back at you. 

“We need this room,” the healer informed you, “and your injuries don’t require any more special care. Ice packs – only for twenty-minutes at a time, painkillers and rest. Move around a little, so you don’t get stuff but don’t try anything crazy like riding a motorcycle for three hours.” He aimed his face shield at Din with the last comment, and you watched as Din glared back.

“Where am I going? Home?” You asked, trying to cut through the awkward moment. 

“You’re going to stay with me,” Din said evenly. “There’s no room at Syala’s.”

“Oh.” You said, trying to ignore the way the simple comment seemed to sting in your chest. “Okay.” 

The healer helped you out of the bed and left the room. Din set some clothes on the bed, a few things you had left behind at his place after spending the night so many times. He went to leave like the healer did but you stopped him. 

“Wait,” you said. 

“I’ll be right outside,” he insisted. 

“No – I,” You swallowed and shoved down the embarrassment bubbling up in you. “I need help getting dressed.” 

Din just stared at you.

“Please,” you rolled your eyes. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

It had not been this tense or silent between the two of you in a while. A few days of hell was all it took to make the comfort and easiness of being alone with him disappear and you had no idea why he was acting the way he was. Gentle and keeping his eyes respectfully away from your breasts, he helped you so you wouldn’t have to lift your arms or contort in any way to slide the shirt over your torso. You still grunted a little in pain at some of the movement. 

You sat down on the bed, and he pulled the legs of some yoga pants over your feet and up your legs. When you stood up, you placed your hands on his shoulders for balance until they were high enough on your hips for you to pull up yourself without bending over. Every touch was like you were made of glass, and his eyes avoided yours at all costs. You slid on your shoes and walked out of the door without speaking to him again.

When you got into the hallway, you huffed slightly as you realized you had no idea where you were or how to leave. You turned to Din.

“Which way?”

He pointed and then started walking, you trailed a few steps behind him to follow his lead. Silently, you made your way through the corridors until sunlight finally appeared through some windows in the entrance. Moving past him to step outside the doors first, you took a cautious breath, careful not to push too much air into your lungs and make your ribs sing in pain. For a moment, whatever was going on with Din was forgotten, the kidnapping, Tycho – all of it was far from your mind. 

You were just grateful for the fresh air and the sunlight on your skin 

After a few moments you heard your name, and when you opened your eyes Din was looking at you now. 

“Sorry,” you said, “it’s just nice. After being cooped up.”

He nodded his head a little, averting his eyes from you. “We’ll walk slow.” 

And so you did. Leisurely steps across the compound and towards the small neighborhood of homes in the distance. It was lively as ever in the Covert: kids laughing and yelling, bikes coming in and out, and people going about their business. It filled in the silence between the two of you for the slow walk. 

When you passed by Syala’s house the door flung open and a small figure ran towards you. You swallowed down a grunt as Nessa bolted into you, slamming into your torso in a hug. Trailing after her was Lysa, and before she could do the same Din put a hand out, telling her to slow down. Nessa gasped, leaping away, and looked up at you. 

“Did I hurt you? I’m sorry, I didn’t – “ 

“It’s okay,” you said breathlessly, lifting your arms out. “Come here, both of you.”

Lysa and Nessa both, gently, came up to hug you. You stood there for a moment, ignoring the pain in your ribs to lean down and kiss them both on the head. Lysa couldn’t look at you for long, and you knew that you still looked a little worse for wear. 

“I heard you were both so helpful,” you said gently. “Thank you.”

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Nessa’s lip trembled a little. 

You just smiled a little. 

“Girls,” Paz called from the doorway, “she needs her rest.”

“Can we come see you soon?” Lysa asked quietly. 

“I will see you as soon as I can,” you promised. The girls walked away and you made no motion to move. “Are we going to get Junior?”

“After you’re settled in,” Din said. 

You nodded your head and walked away from him, a hand pressed to where Nessa had rammed into your ribs. Once you got to the door, he let you in and you were once again confronted with the fact that only days ago you had been so comfortable walking into his home, not worried about formalities. It smelled like him, was just as devoid of a personal touch except for toys and strewn about. 

“Do you need anything?” He asked. 

“A shower, maybe?” 

All they had given you in the infirmary was enough to have you comfortable, a sponge bath to clean and look for wounds you might have not noticed. Din licked his lips and nodded, letting you lead the way to the bathroom. He had to help you remove your clothes again, setting them aside. 

“I know I’m not looking my best, but you don’t have to pretend you haven’t _seen_ me before.” 

You don’t know what possessed you to say it. The way his eyes stayed trained so they were just beyond you, made you feel like something was wrong with you. It could have been better to just be quiet, but you spoke anyway. The frown furrowing his brow, went a little deeper before he looked at you again. The swelling in your eye had gone down quite a bit but was still enough to keep it looking rather rough. 

His jaw clenched, and he averted his eyes again. “I’ll be right outside when you’re done.” 

Maybe a few days ago that might have made you cry, but you had cried so much lately that the rejection clawed at your chest rather than making you tear up. You chose not to linger on it for the moment, instead starting up the shower and focusing on how grateful you were when you stepped under the warm stream. You chose to hold on to the little things like the way the sun had felt outside, the way Lysa and Nessa had felt in your arms. Right then you focused on how good it felt to be clean for the first time in days as you scrubbed at your skin. 

Outside the door, Din stood frozen leaning against the wall and tried to sort through the mess in his head. This should have been the end of it. You were safe, you were going to be okay and he had the one thing he had wanted since he realized you had been taken. You were right _there_. He could go into the bathroom and see you with his own eyes, watch the water drip down your skin and see you smile at him. 

There was a clatter from inside, something hitting the shower floor. His stomach dropped and he opened the bathroom door, tearing the shower curtain aside and making you gasp mid-reach for a bottle of soap that had fallen to the floor. Din let out a breath of relief and reached down to grab the bottle for you and put it in your hand. 

“I’ll stay – just in case – “

“Okay,” you said gently. 

Din slid the curtain shut again, and leaned against the counter, and rubbed a hand over his face. You still took your time, hyper-aware of his presence just beyond the curtain. The entire time Din ran over things to say in his head, opened his mouth to say them, and then promptly shut it when it felt impossible to do. There was just too much. 

He had given up your brother to be incarcerated for who knew how long. He had failed to protect you. He had almost _hit_ you. So caught up in his rage and the violent nature of it that when you had come up behind him your voice had not registered – nothing had except your frightened face when he turned with a fist raised. 

Every time you winced, every time he tried to look you in the eye and saw one swollen and bruised – that rage came back. And he wanted you as far from it as possible. 

“Din?” You said.

He looked up. 

“You okay?” 

“Yes.”

“I called your name a few times,” you said gently. 

He shook his head. “Sorry.”

“S’fine. Can you hand me a towel?”

He did so, and you wrapped yourself up before you stepped out. Slowly and gently moving your body to dry yourself off. When you hissed at a wrong move, he straightened out and took the towel out of your hands – drying you off where you couldn’t reach. He helped you dress again, all in silence. 

He had you climb into the bed, propped up by some pillows, and offered you a glass of water with the painkillers the healers had offered you. When you were done, he left to grab Junior and when he came back you heard the two of them in the living room. Din’s low rumbling voice talking to the little boy who only babbled back in response, little squeals of protest when his father kept him from coming down the hallway into the bedroom.

For the first time in a while, you felt like an outsider. 

* * *

By the third week, you were going out of your mind. 

You were stuck inside, only moving around to go to the bathroom or stretch as best you could. Syala and the kids came to visit you, which made the room very crowded and very loud but you were grateful for their presence. Even Paz had come by to visit again, peering into the room from the doorway to make short conversation with you before lingering out of earshot in the living room to talk to Din. You heard the door close rather harshly behind him every time he left. 

Din was sleeping on the couch. Despite your protestations and your insistence that he at least switch off with you, he stayed there. He also somehow found a way to simultaneously hover over you and not be near you at the same time. Sometimes you thought he was waiting outside the door, every particularly loud hiss of pain or if you happened to knock something overreaching from your position on the bed had him in the room within seconds. 

Yet, he was never farther away from you than ever before. He had reverted to how he was before. Watching, standing on the outside and not letting himself get close to you, just idly caring for you from a distance. Every gentle prod you made gave you nothing but a sullen stare and furrowed brow before he walked away like being near you too long physically hurt him. 

It was unbearable. 

Your few visitors were the highlight of your time there, but Junior was your saving grace. Try as he might, Din couldn’t keep Junior out of the bedroom and he seemed to have given up and the baby was more commonly your companion than Din ever was. You two played with toys and watched movies together, oftentimes falling asleep with him cradled in your arms only to wake up and be alone again. 

You smiled, still grateful for his company, as you watched him chew on the stuffed frog you had given him so long ago. 

“Tell me your secrets, Junior,” you said, “why’s your dad being so weird?”

The baby looked at you, cocked his head to the side a little, and babbled, “buir?” 

It was the only thing he said, but it was more than he ever said before. You weren’t sure what it meant but you were happy to see he was beginning to talk. Sighing you tugged him closer to you, tickling his sides as you did and laughing when he shrieked with laughter. It only hurt a little bit to exert yourself like that, your ribs were slowly healing, your eye was no longer swollen and most of your bruises were gone. 

Without fail, Din was in the doorway looking at Junior as if he had somehow caused some trouble. 

“He’s fine,” you insisted. 

“Do you need anything?”

“No. Thank you.” You said curtly. 

He hovered in the doorway at your tone and then disappeared again. 

“Buir!” Junior yelled. 

He wiggled out of your grip and started running down the hall screaming the word over and over again until he apparently found what he wanted and you heard it stop somewhere in the distance. Sighing you leaned back against the pillows and reached for your phone. 

Din had retrieved a few things from your place. More clothes, your phone, and your laptop so you could get some work done. You hadn’t seen your shop in weeks and you were worried all you were going to come back to was dead plants and broken glass. With weeks of no income, you were dreading finding out just how much repairs and replacements would be – but healing had to come first. You couldn’t run the shop if you couldn’t do anything but lay in bed. 

Now that you were feeling better, however, you were ready to go back. It would be a nice distraction from Din’s behavior and you could start to recover from what you could easily call the scariest days of your life. 

After dinner, Din put Junior to bed and helped you in the shower. You didn’t really need his help anymore, but it was the most time you could get him to spend with you so you never told him that you were fine without him. It had become a ritual, the only one where he ever really touched you. He’d help you dry off and dress and make sure you got into bed before he disappeared for the night. 

While you were alone again, you mulled over everything. This hurt beyond whatever physical damage had been done and you were healed enough to take care of yourself so you would just have to go back. You needed to pick up the pieces of your life, figure out what your next step was and perhaps space would give Din time to get over whatever the hell he was brooding about. He was pushing you away no matter how hard you tried to resist it, and you were _tired_ of the constant rejection. 

The next morning, as he had for the past few weeks, he brought you coffee and breakfast, watched as you took the painkillers, and then left. You took your time eating, eyes milling around the room as you made your decision. Syala would surely give you a ride back to your store, all you needed to do was pack up and go. So you got yourself out of bed and started gathering your things, gently putting them into the few bags you had. 

Once you were sure you had everything, you had to take one bag at a time to the front door due to the still lingering soreness. Maybe Din’s last gesture could be helping you load up your bags. You dropped off one bag on the floor, making sure not to look at Din on the couch as you passed by him again but feeling his eyes on you as you retreated. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I think I’m gonna go home,” you said, turning to him with a forced smile on your face. “I can go rest in my bed and get out of your hair.”

“You can’t.” 

“Why?”

Din seemed to chew over the words for a moment. “It’s safer here.”

“Nevarro is still Mando territory, right?” When he nodded you went on, “Tycho is gone, there’s no reason they would come after me again.”

“Paz and I took out an entire unit of Hutt footmen and killed two of their hunters,” Din explained, standing slowly. “Tensions were already high. Hutts are moving in on territories, small fights happening all over the world right now. It’s not safe out there.”

It was the most he’d said to you in weeks. You licked your lips and looked away from him. “I want to go back to work, Din.”

“I’m sorry.” He shifted on his feet a little, “I can go…grab more things. You can work from here.”

You clenched your jaw and inhaled gently, trying to let the anger release with the next exhale but deep breathing couldn’t calm the fire which rose up in you at his response. You had reached your limit. 

“What do you need?” he asked, walking up and getting between you and the door. “I’ll go get it.”

“I’ve needed _you_ ,” you said, surprised by the way your voice wavered. 

Din was frozen to the spot, eyes widening slightly as he looked at you like you had just slapped him across the face. You had seen him beat a man to death, shoot a woman in the face – you knew what kind of dangers he was faced with every day. Yet your simple statement seemed to scare the shit out of him. 

“All I wanted when I was in that fucking little room in the middle of nowhere was to get back to you, and him,” you gestured in the direction of the baby’s room, “to get back here and see Sy and the kids. You have no idea how relieved I was that you found me. ” You took a steadying breath, trying to get back to the point, “now I’m right where I wanted to be and somehow you’ve never been farther away. You won’t touch me – you hardly _look_ at me.” 

Din’s face shifted into a grimace, eyes shut against the accusation, having no helmet to hide behind. He started to speak your name but you didn’t let him finish. 

“And that hurts more than anything they did to me,” you said, voice cracking when you said it. 

Hearing you say it felt like a punch to the gut. Despite that, the cold reality that you wanted to leave was at the forefront of his mind. You’d be alone back at your store, no security, and no one to stand between you and the world. He couldn’t _make_ you stay, he knew that. “Please stay,” he murmured, “I can’t – I _want to_ protect you.”

“Why?”

Another silence fell over the room. He looked you in the eye, the seconds feeling like forever and after a moment the rush of emotions was too much. He could see the hurt and disappointment and he wanted to tell you why to explain himself. But there was too much to say and he didn’t think he could even find the right words. He’d fuck it up, he knew he would, and he could do nothing but stand there feeling like a raw nerve. After a few moments where he just stared at you, saying nothing you started to move past him for the door. 

This was on him now. He had been so dead set on not losing you, and if you walked out of that door he knew there was a chance you wouldn’t come back. 

You almost didn’t hear him, his voice softer than you’d ever heard but with how quiet the room was you just barely caught it. You froze with your hand on the doorknob when he said:

“ _I love you_.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a translations:   
> ner vod - my brother  
> gar cyar’ika - your sweetheart  
> mir’sheb -- smartass   
> buir -- mother/father/parent


	14. The Violet Hour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was strange how the tables had turned. He was the one who struggled to put feelings into words, instead trying to show in whatever way he could. A ride home from the bar when your brother had fallen asleep, cleaning up broken pottery on the floor with you – kissing you so you’d stop worrying about the guilt that wasn’t yours to carry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the end is a little survey that I'm doing, to see what the future is for biker!mando. Also, I'd like to ask the Ao3 readers since I have them up on tumblr, would you also like the one-shots that go along with this story?
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: angst , anxiety/panic attacks, trauma aftermath, fluff, domesticity, found family trope, Syala being the older sister we all need, Confessions, Din was dumb but he’s doing his best, SMUT (18+ Only): thigh riding, outdoor sex, cream pie.

_ “I love you.” _

You slowly turned, hand still on the doorknob and looking over your shoulder at him. He seemed nervous, lips twitching open like more words wanted to come out and his eyes pleading with you to stay. Something very near to the surface of your mind pulled at you to go comfort him, to hold him and tell him it was going to be okay. But your feet were stuck to the ground, the admission was so far from what you were expecting and no matter how instinctual it was to say it back -- those words couldn’t magically fix the past few weeks.

So you said nothing. 

“When you were gone I -- “ he began, reconsidered, and started again. “I was… full of rage. I almost hit you.” When you finally turned to face him fully, you saw him swallow hard. 

You remembered the moment vividly. The way he had turned to you with his fist raised after being startled. But not once had you blamed him for it, the whole situation had been chaos -- and he had stopped himself once he realized you were not a threat. His bringing it up again, however, made things begin to make sense.

“I snuck up on you,” you said gently, “you didn’t know it was me.” 

Din stared at you for a moment. “I’m sorry. About the last few weeks. The last thing I wanted was to...hurt you.”

You nodded your head, “so… all this time you were what? Guilty?”

“Yes,” he said. 

“Okay.”

There was another heavy pause, not sure what else to do with his one-word answer. 

“And scared.” He admitted after the silence got too heavy. This time his eyes clenched shut as he admitted it. 

“Of what?”

“Losing you.”

“But you got me back,” you said, confused. 

“That’s not -- “ He did the same start and stop. Considering his words, plucking up the courage to say them. “I’m a Mandalorian,  _ a hunter _ , and I do have enemies. I give my word, I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you and Junior but -- you have to know what you’re dealing with...being with me. If that’s what you still want.” 

Staring at him for a while, you saw him bracing himself for impact. Ready to be told that it was too much, you could see it in his eyes that he was vulnerable, even if his shoulders were set to make him seem more confident. 

“I knew that from the start,” you told him. “What happened to me wasn’t your fault, you know that, right?”

He didn’t say anything. 

“It was my brother’s fault,” you said quietly.

Din looked away again.

You took a deep breath, and closed your eyes, “I’ll stay a little while longer.” 

After a heavy silence, he fidgeted, shifted on his feet a little bit. He was relieved but he didn’t want to show that, didn’t want you to take it the wrong way. “You should get your rest,” he said, “I’ll go with you to the store tomorrow.”

You nodded your head and headed towards the bedroom. When you turned, he had not moved, just stared at the spot where you stood. 

“Din,” you said, waiting until he turned to look at you. The words were on the tip of your tongue, you knew you wanted to say them but they seemed to stay stuck between your teeth -- just out of reach. All you could manage was, “come to bed.”

The walk through the hallway was short and when you made it back inside you worried he wouldn’t come. You heard his footsteps before he came into the doorway, all of your bags slung over his shoulders. He set them down and stood there like he needed more of an invitation to sleep in his own bed. You took off your shoes, and slid under the covers and only once you were comfortable did Din come over to join you. 

He moved slowly, careful not to jostle you and even when he was in bed his arms did not reach for you like they normally did. You settled down into your pillow, letting yourself get comfortable. It was still a little tense, but having him close in the small bed was a comfort. You reached a hand out and grabbed one of his, closing your eyes. 

“Is this okay?” Din asked, quieter than before, his hand gently squeezing yours.

“Yeah.” You whispered. 

You didn’t fall asleep right away, and neither did he. It was silent in the room but he must have noticed you relaxing into the bed as you started to fall asleep. He shifted closer, body pressing to yours so softly you felt more of the heat from his body than the weight behind you. What you did feel was his head pressing against the back of yours, and the heavy breath that followed with his thumb gently drawing circles over the top of your hand which he held. 

* * *

You woke up alone again, the tender hurt of that was still there but you tried to let it go when you heard Junior’s voice somewhere in the house. He had dad duties that pulled him out of bed. That’s what you told yourself, choosing to stay in the room and try to think over everything he had said the night before. 

He brought your breakfast to you, as had been the routine recently. Instead of leaving right after, he settled onto the mattress with you and Junior. He sat by while you ate, all three of you quietly spending the morning together. The silence was still tense, it sometimes felt like being at square one where he didn’t know how to talk to you. Junior was the only one that seemed to not feel the tension, simply getting up to his usual trouble being the curious boy that he was. Din had to keep pulling Junior away as he desperately tried to steal a gulp of your coffee. 

“Ad’ika,” he grumbled, “no.” He handed him the sippy cup full of juice the toddler kept ignoring. 

Junior took it, stared at the cup, and then tossed it aside to crawl towards your cup again. 

You laughed a little, “let me try something.” 

Din watched as you offered the toddler a sip of your coffee, half horrified at what the outcome would be when his son was already near impossible to control -- caffeine would not be a good idea. Junior took the sip, at first okay with the taste until the bitterness of the coffee registered on his tongue and he scrunched his face up, tongue out in protest. You laughed again, harder this time, and Din couldn’t help but chuckle as well. 

“Now he won’t try again,” you said.

As if to prove your point Junior grabbed his sippy cup, taking big gulps to wash away the taste in his mouth. 

“If that coffee has him bouncing off the walls,  _ you _ get to wrangle him,” Din said blandly. 

“Oh, no,” you said dramatically, “I’m injured, I couldn’t.”

Din’s wry look made you chuckle again and a smile slipped onto his face at the sound.

* * *

The shop windows were boarded up, a ‘closed until further notice’ sign on the door. There was no glass littering the sidewalk, but some were still broken ragged edges. Inside was a little nicer than you remembered leaving it -- what you could remember of the chaotic mess that was the afternoon you were taken. 

The floor was swept clean, no broken pieces of pottery or piles of soil and no glass. Even the light that had been shot out was replaced. Most surprising of all was that none of the plants were dead. With the windows boarded up, someone had set up grow lamps around them, the smell of wet soil was in the air which meant they had been watered and while a few of the sun-loving ones were looking a little wilted -- most of your stock was in pretty good shape. 

“Looks like there’s not much to clean up.” You said to Din. 

He had Junior in his arms, the little boy taking in his surroundings with big eyes. Din did a cursory glance around the place which looked nothing like he had left it either. “Who do you think it was?”

“Rina was the only one with a key,” you told him. “If she’s been working I’m gonna have to remember to pay her,” you said. “I should have called Arlan.”

Din was sure not to make eye contact. The store had not been clean when he came by to grab your things, and he had not heard from Arlan since that day. He had been so caught up in finding you, getting you well and keeping you safe in the covert he had not even thought of the store or of your friends on the street. 

Despite being cleaned up and most of the evidence of the shootout being gone, there were still bullet holes in some of the walls, and your counter was chipped in a few places. You ran your finger over one of them, the jagged edges pressing into your skin before you pulled away again. 

Slowly, you moved up the stairs to the loft. Some of your plants up there were wilted, a few with browned leaves fallen off of the stems. It was mostly the same as you remembered. No holes or broken glass up there. 

You didn’t dare go into the kitchen to see what the food left in your fridge looked like -- but you did go up the steps towards your bed and gently lay down on top of the covers.

It was familiar, the smells and the sights. Your bed was just as comfortable. Still, it had been a while since you had been there. 

Your home had never felt unsafe before, you had never felt vulnerable, but laying there you realized that there was a nagging feeling of insecurity about being there. The steps gave a familiar creak as Din followed you up, leaning on the railing and looking around the place. 

“I should refit the place,” you said aloud, mostly thinking to yourself. “Add cameras and better locks. Maybe some thicker glass.” 

Din nodded, even though you weren’t looking at him. “We can do that.” 

“I used to spend days here by myself,” you said. “Never once worried about it.”

Din watched you closely. 

“But right now I feel like any moment someone could come through the door.” 

A few tears gathered in your eyes as you stared at the ceiling. You did understand the risk of being with Din, but there was always a level of risk that came with living in the outer purlieus.

Nevarro was farther away from the more secure parts of the world that were closer to Republic forts, but It had been a haven in the long expanse of the desert region for years. Safer than Tatooine, and thriving more than Jakku had ever dreamed of. 

Part of you wondered if that was because of the Covert not twenty minutes away from town. 

There were so many Mandalorians with spouses and children, not untouchable, but protected by truces and the promise of recompense for any harm done. As you had seen first hand. You could practically feel Din guiltily brooding across the room. 

“Do you think a war will break out? Between the Hutts and the Mandalorians?”

“I’m not sure,” he said, “it’s possible but there are no benefits to it on either side.”

“Hutts would gain territory if they won. Arms dealers would make a fortune.”

Din came around then sitting next to you on the edge of the bed. He let Junior down onto it as he reached out for you. The natural, instinctual, way you opened your arms to his son when he moved toward you made Din’s heart tighten in his chest. The little boy was content to crawl all over you, not even whining when you kept him from heading towards the edge of the bed. 

“If you want out --” he started, reconsidered, and began again, “if you want to go, somewhere closer to the inner purlieus, closer to the capitol... we can make that happen. “

You looked over to him, to see he was staring at something on your floor. “Stop trying to push me out.”

“If you don’t feel safe -- “

“I just need time.” You told him. “I thought maybe I could convince you I’d be okay here by myself for a few days but… I don’t think I am. I don’t think I’m ready.” 

You took in a shuddering breath. The shift in your breathing made Junior look at you before he plopped his face onto your chest, little hands patting your face. Wrapping an arm around him and rubbing his back, you tried not to cry for his sake. 

It was complicated, you were full of conflict on so many fronts. About your brother, about Din, about whatever you were supposed to do  _ next.  _ It had been hard, you never remembered being so scared, but you survived. You never wanted to endure anything like it ever again, but you knew, at the very least, you could if you had to.

Din’s hand slid across the sheets and grabbed yours. He murmured your name. 

“I’ll be okay,” you promised, more to yourself than him. Your voice thick with emotion and hot tears sliding down the sides of your face as you stared at the ceiling. The skin on skin contact from both your boys, breaking through your stubborn determination to pretend that you were fine, that you could do this on your own. “ _ I will. _ I just need to…” you shook your head. You didn’t know what you needed to do, not yet. 

“I know,” he said, squeezing his hand in yours. “I’m here,” he told you, “however long it takes.”

You laid there for a while, even after Junior lifted himself from you to try and entertain himself in the silence that had settled. The quiet support of the man next to you feeling somehow like a weight had been lifted away from your shoulders. He couldn’t take the pain away. Your brother was gone, you had been through a terrible ordeal and there was a lot to start fixing both physically and mentally. But his hand in yours, his solid and quiet sturdiness beside you was like some sort of bolster. 

When the old sound of the bells above the door jingling broke through the silence, you popped up in the bed. The sudden movement stung a little bit. It had been so long since you heard that familiar tinkling sound. Your heart started pounding in your chest and you looked to Din whose eyebrows were raised just a fraction.

“Whoever it is has a key,” he reminded you. 

It was probably Rina or Arlan. You _knew_ that, you reminded yourself, the logical answer was that your friends had come to check in on the store. You tried to take a few deep breaths. 

“Do you want me to go check?” 

You nodded. 

Din lifted himself off of the bed, his hand on the pistol holstered at his hip but not removing it just yet. You could track his steps as he descended into the main floor of the loft, and then out of the door. He wasn’t halfway down the steps before you grabbed Junior and held him tight in your arms. 

You reminded yourself to  _ breathe _ . There were voices, muffled but not sounding aggressive and you couldn’t pick out Din’s or anyone else’s. Just the vague sounds of people talking and your heart started to beat a little more regularly. Breaths came in easier. No gunshots, no yelling and soon you heard steps ascend, and then Din call your name from the door. 

You followed his voice with Junior, and made your way down to go back into the storefront and were greeted by your friend smiling at you, coming slowly towards you with arms open. Arlan was a welcome sight, a taste of normalcy that you had otherwise been lacking. After you handed Junior to Din, Arlan brought you into a gentle hug and you found yourself leaning into him. 

“Was this you and Rina?”

“Just wanted to help how we could,” he responded. 

“Thank you,” your voice cracked. 

You stayed talking to Arlan and Rina for a while, catching up on the street’s gossip and their lives. Loosely planning on when to start putting the store back together. You paid Rina in cash for all her work, reaching into the untouched safe beneath the cash wrap and throwing some extra in there just for being so kind. 

It wasn’t what you imagined, going back for the first time since it all happened. But it turned out better than you had hoped. 

* * *

Din was doing his best to try and make up for the stupid way he had acted. Romantic gestures were not his specialty, not even close, and Paz wasn’t any help. You were spending more time at the shop after that first visit back, staying to watch new windows, security cameras, and special locks be installed. Filling what few orders you could, sending Rina to run them out to people since the storefront was not open until repairs were done. It was a slow crawl towards normalcy, but it was better than nothing.

The best moments were weekly get-togethers now termed ‘family dinners’ by Syala where everyone squeezed into her home for a meal together. Paz was back and forth from Coruscant or elsewhere, sometimes missing them but otherwise there after a trip to that large building at the back of the Covert and some hushed conversations with Din that he never really wanted to reveal to anyone else at the table. 

All the kids and adults gathered around an insane amount of food, bumping elbows as you all ate together. It was loud, rowdy, and most times it was the highlight of your weeks. 

Especially the dinner after Din had found you huddled under the cash wrap, trying to breathe and get yourself calmed down. 

It was an accident. The person installing your locks had attempted to test the new security system by roughly kicking at the door from outside. You were just pruning leaves off of a plant when the first slam of their foot on the door made you jump and shear off one of the few flowers the plant had left. Cut off at the stem with you standing frozen to the spot until the next slam happened and you dropped the shears. 

You had managed to hold it together to thank them and send them off with a check once everything was done but after they left you fell apart. The walls were closing in, your heart was too loud in your chest and  _ you couldn’t breathe _ . 

You had been doing so well. Frustration was making the panic worse, only amping you up farther. You knew you were fine, but you couldn’t get it to die down. When Din came in, the concern in his voice was palpable at not seeing you in the store -- moving to run up the stairs when you called out best you could with a too-tight chest. 

“Cyar’ika,” he said gently. 

“I can’t -- breathe -- I don’t -- “

“Hey,  _ easy _ ,” he had said. “I’ve got you.” 

All he had to offer you was to take deep breaths with you, and hold your hand until it passed before he took you back to the Covert where you bundled up with him and Junior and watched a terrible kid’s movie that enraptured the little boy. 

You had been frustrated with yourself since that day. Not too long ago you had liked being around  _ your _ plants and  _ your _ things. Din’s home offered the comfort of the two people who lived in it -- the smells that reminded you of them and the sounds of them moving around the space. But it was almost dreary in comparison to your space full of flourishing greenery. 

A few nights later, you went to Syala’s to help cook while Paz and Din went out on business promising to be back before dinner. It was easy to forget for a while with Syala, laughing and talking and cooking together. 

The kids were doing much better than they had been before, Lysa had stopped breaking out into tears at random intervals and Nessa’s brows furrowed less into frowns while she was lost in thought. Jido was walking, clumsy and eager. Things were shifting back into place from where they had been fractured, cracks filled in with the love and support of a patchwork family. 

Paz and Din barely made it back in time, neither of them looking too disheveled from whatever work they had done. Dinner went as usual: Paz damn near started a food fight, Syala and you got a little tipsy off of some cheap wine and the kids loudly tried to talk over each other. The whole night Din had a sort of nervous energy, his eyes full of mirth but every smile flickered with a little uncertainty. 

After dinner Din and Paz did dishes, you and Syala finishing off your wine in the cool desert night while the kids played with other foundlings and descendants. You were growing more familiar with the people there. One family had moved out after getting back on their feet, the little house behind Syala’s was ready to be occupied by another person down on their luck. Mandalorians greeted you by name, some of which you knew without their helmets or vests on. 

“Din found me under the cash register the other day,” you said unprompted after a long lull in the conversation, breaking the comfortable silence. “The locksmith was testing the new locks and kept kicking the door and I…”

Syala looking at you, patiently waiting. You swallowed hard, willing yourself to continue. 

“I was doing so well,” you said, looking on at the kids running around as the sun shed its last light. “And then I just fell apart.” 

“Sweetie, these things don’t just go away,” Syala said, her voice lacking any pity but full of feeling. “There’s gonna be bad days.” 

“But how long until I can just live my life again?” you asked desperately. 

“However long you need,” Syala insisted. “There are people here you can talk to -- people who deal with this sort of stuff. If you want that all you have to do is ask. But you have to be kinder to yourself -- you went through hell, you  _ fought _ like hell. Let yourself heal.”

You sniffled a little, wiping at your eyes and taking a deep breath. “Yeah.” 

“You want more wine?”

“Maybe a little.”

“Yeah, that’s my girl,” she smiled, handing over the bottle to top off your glass as you laughed. 

The floodlights came on to light the main area for the kids as the sun went down. You were out there for a while, watching and talking with Syala. Junior eventually got too tuckered out to run around with the bigger kids anymore and toddled over to you with arms reached out so you could scoop him up and settle him in your lap. 

  
Din and Paz came out to join you both for a while, Jido strapped in a birikad to Paz’s chest and looked almost comically small in comparison. His chubby cheek squished against him as he slept. When the crowd of children thinned out finally, you said your goodbyes as Syala called her own kids inside for the night. Junior was firmly in your arms, almost ready to doze off but bathtime came first. 

Din was close behind you, and when you walked towards the bathroom to start the water for Junior’s bath you didn’t see him waiting by the door. In fact, you didn't see him again until after Junior was already in his pajamas and ready for bed -- instead, you heard him moving around the house. After laying the toddler down in his bed, night light on, and his stuffed frog tucked under his arm, you went back into the living room. Din was not in there but you noticed something else. 

A small kuvara tree.  _ Your _ small kuvara tree, to be exact.

The one that you kept right by your door, now settled in right by  _ his _ front door. On the coffee table was a small nightblossom and a frown furrowed your brows. You moved towards the bedroom, calling Din’s name and as you came in the doorway you gasped a little. 

_ All _ of your plants from the loft were in there. Din was trying to move one of your trees farther away from the window and turned to look at you. He was almost bashful, arms suddenly at his sides and face lowered just a little even though his eyes turned up. 

“When did you do this?” 

“Before dinner.” 

“Why?” You asked with a little laugh. 

“You said I needed —“ he said, hiding embarrassment in the roughening of his voice, “I thought it’d make you more… “ he winced slightly, “comfortable.” 

Your eyebrows shot up. “That’s -- thank you.” Fuck, you weren’t going to cry  _ again _ . 

You walked towards him, your fingers lovingly dragging over a large leaf of a familiar monstera on your way there. He stood still when you got close, and you hesitated only for a moment before you put your hands on his chest and leaned in. It took him a moment, waiting to know for sure that you wanted what he thought you wanted before he slanted his head to meet your lips. 

It was gentle, his hands slowly coming to your sides, as you kissed for the first time since you had been taken. 

* * *

Kisses were more common now, laying in bed together was less fraught with uncertainty -- normalcy was  _ almost _ back. You hadn’t stayed in the loft since but you had (with the help of Din and Paz) moved some more of your furniture into the house -- your desk, your mirror, and a small dresser. The business was a week away from a somewhat overdramatic celebratory grand re-opening event (Arlan’s idea) and you were ready to get back to work. 

As a small celebration and vacation from the Covert and parenting, Din had taken you to Felucia forest. You had been there before, it was one of your favorites, and money was a little tight from him not hunting in a while and you were still catching up after the shop being closed for so long -- but it was definitely worth it to get some time alone and away. The nerves from being outside of the walls seemed to pass, you felt safe enough to walk the little village in the forest and buy many unnecessary souvenirs for everyone back home. 

Din was still being somewhat cautious, he hadn’t even teased you for buying little trinkets and toys, but he had seemed to shift away from that forced distance he created before. Now he had his hand somewhere on you whenever he could, at the middle of your back, his hand in yours, or on your shoulder. Conversation was going back to that easy flow of familiarity again, his short terse sentences becoming longer and smoother, more jokes made under his breath that made you snort embarrassingly loud. 

The walk through the woods was something he was a little worried about. You had not done too much physical activity while your ribs healed, and he didn’t want you exerting yourself too much. But the trail was a flat dirt path, a nice stroll through the woods to get to a large pond within the forest. You kept pointing things out, flowers hidden behind some leafy plants, and explaining why they grew the way they did. He kept his hands in his pockets, only slipping them out to offer a hand when you stepped over large roots that had reclaimed the path. 

It was a little unnecessary, but you weren’t going to stop him from doing it. You had to admit you liked the attentiveness.

The path was mostly empty, you had passed a small family and a few people by themselves but for the most part, it was quiet and tranquil. When you made it to the pond you stood to take it in for a while. Water still enough that you could see fish swimming around, long reeds stuck through the surface and lilypads wide enough to look like you could lay on them made for a scenic view. 

Sitting in the dirt, not afraid of getting the skirt you were wearing a little dirty, you looked around. No one was by the water, so you risked reaching up the skirt and started pulling the leggings you wore underneath off. Din noticed the flash of thigh he got enough to make his eyebrows twitch towards his hairline before he made a more thorough effort to make sure no one was around to see you. By the time he was certain you weren’t giving anyone a free show and looked back to you, your feet were breaking the water’s surface into coolness. 

You didn’t kick your legs, let them float there to see if a fish would come close enough for you to watch what they would do. Din sat next to you with a slight grunt, forearms resting on his knees as he made no attempt to remove his boots and socks and join you. The sound of the water lapping against your skin, the chirp of birds above, and the broken sunlight through the leaves glinting on the water seemed to imprint themselves on his mind. Looking over to find you peacefully smiling at a curious fish inspecting your toes had his chest filling with warmth. 

There was a slight gasp as you retracted your feet from the water. “It bit me.”

Din laughed a little. “You’ve got your feet in his house.”

“Little bastard.”

Another silence settled over the two of you, but a comfortable one. You were grateful for that, even though being away from home with him made you feel like it was the perfect time to say all the things you had not been able to. Life was slowly progressing to whatever your new normal was, but there were a lot of things left to say. A lot of things you had been considering since you had gotten back to him. 

“You’re going to have to start hunting again soon,” you said. “You can’t just babysit me all the time.”

“You are a handful,” he said, “better than dealing with quarries, though.”

“How sweet,” you said sarcastically, but your smile was genuine. 

“Bounties will always be out there,” he said. “Greef will have work for me whenever you’re ready to be on your own.”

“I think I am,” you said softly. “Really,” you gave him a pointed look.

“You  _ think _ you are.”

You paused at that. You hadn’t been able to say much with any certainty lately, everything out of your mouth laced with some flavor of doubt. Choosing not to remark about him bringing it up, you tried to come back to what you wanted to say when you started the conversation.

“I want to practice with the gun again. Learn how to  _ really _ defend myself,” you said. “I think that would make me feel like...like I had some control.” You admitted it quieter than you intended. “Like I’m not holding you down.”

Din looked at you, unsure of what to say. “Is that what you think you do?”

“I don’t want to be a weak spot,” you said gently. “If something happens I want to know I can keep me and Junior safe if you’re not there.” Looking out at the ripples of the water as you pressed your foot gently into the water again, “it doesn’t scare me -- being with you. After what happened, I just want to make sure I can handle whatever comes next.”

Din nodded his head slowly. “I’ll teach you.” 

You looked at him, “thank you. For everything.”

Not sure what to say at first, he reached out to brush a stray tear. “You aren’t a weak spot,” he said, “I was -- I _ am _ proud of you.” He thought over the words, each one falling short of what he felt but he had to try. You were not a burden, not weak, not foolish. Not to him. 

You shifted your body to lean towards him and he opened up to take you in, lips meeting halfway in a soft kiss. Once you started, you couldn’t stop pressing harder into him to try and reach past the words you wanted to say and show it to him instead. Din accepted each forward push, hand still firmly pressed to your cheek while the other pulled you in close until your body pressed against him. 

“I love you,” he said for the second time.

The first had been an honest plea to explain himself, to make sure you knew before you made the decision to stay or walk out of his life. Desperate and apologetic. This time it came so gently, so naturally that it moved you to shuffle until you were in his lap, straddling his hips. You still hadn’t said it, although you had thought it many times -- wanted to tell him in the many stretches of silence that had seemed to be oceans between the two of you. 

It was strange how the tables had turned. He was the one who struggled to put feelings into words, instead trying to show in whatever way he could. A ride home from the bar when your brother had fallen asleep, cleaning up broken pottery on the floor with you -- kissing you so you’d stop worrying about the guilt that wasn’t yours to carry. Now it seemed you needed to do the same, clinging to his shirt with shaking fingers like you hadn’t kissed him a thousand times before and on the verge of tears because this was what you  _ wanted _ . 

You wanted long trips on the back of the bike with your arms wrapped around him, rowdy nights in the Covert, Junior’s big toothy grin greeting you in the morning, and these small moments where it was just you two finding some peace in an otherwise hectic world. Your fingers tangled into his hair, tongue dancing over his and your hips rolled forward on an instinct. 

Din made a sound like he was choked for air and pulled away from your lips abruptly, eyes clenched shut as he tried to use sheer force of will to keep his cock from reacting to the pressure of you in his lap and excitement. 

“I’m sorry,” you breathed, “did I...hurt you?” You weren’t sure what happened, but whatever it was obviously was not pleasant for him.

“No,” he shook his head once, not willing to open his eyes yet. You were beautiful and it had been more than a month and seeing you in his lap, lips swollen from kissing and your skirt hiking up your thighs -- he was going to fucking break. 

“Are you sure?” You asked. 

“Yes,” he said tersely. 

“Do you want to stop kissing?”

“No,” he said honestly. “Just...give me a second.” 

When you were about to ask another question, you shifted a little in his lap to get a better look at him and heard him choke down a grunt, and felt the slightly grown bulge in his jeans. “Oh.”

“Sorry.” 

“Why are you sorry?” You asked incredulously. 

“Don’t want to -- you don’t have to do anything,” he assured you, eyes opening after he said it and swallowing hard as he took in your face.

You licked your lips a little, before biting the lower one. When you were recovering the last thing on your mind was sex -- everything hurt, emotionally and physically. While Din was avoiding you it had crossed your mind once you felt mostly better, but you were still stuck in a mindset of grief and processing. The past couple of weeks had been strange, ever since that kiss after his kind gesture of bringing your plants to his home. 

A lot of kisses, mostly short and sweet ones, but never going any further. If it wasn’t because JUnior was so delighted to have both of you there that he needed to be with you two at any given moment, it was because one of you was tired or in your case still sore. It had crossed your mind that nothing had happened between you since before you were taken and that maybe having some alone time on this trip would remedy that. You were, after all, healed. 

You leaned in to kiss him again, tilting your hips towards his purposely. He groaned, hands loose at your hips. Not insistently grabbing, no matter how badly he wanted to. It carried on like that, him following your lead as you kissed with a needy fervor. It was a blissful sort of agony for him, the eager way you pressed into him spurring on an onslaught of wants and impulses but he kept himself steady. 

“Touch me,” you whispered fervently against his lips, hands coming to his, grabbing them and placing them on the bare skin of your thighs. 

He had to when you asked him like that, brain going fuzzy as he gripped the flesh and then dragged his hands under the skirt to palm your ass. When you rolled your hips you felt him pull you in, dragging you along the seam of his jeans where his cock was renting his jeans. A broken sigh was all you could manage as it shot through you like electricity when your cunt dragged along the rough material, separated by thin panties that were growing damp. 

Hands grabbing at his hair, you hungrily rocked against him and didn’t allow his lips to leave yours for long. You thought you might come like this, dry humping in the middle of the forest. Just when you thought you might tip over the edge, a loud moan left your lips and he stopped you from moving — catching his breath. 

“Not here,” he grunted. 

You whined, ready to protest. 

“Up,” he said. 

You listened to him, your whole body still warm and thrumming with need as you scrambled off of him and to your feet. Din got up quick, grabbing your discarded shoes and stockings before he grabbed your hand and led you back to the path. It seemed he had a plan, taking you a ways up the path and waited to see if anyone was coming before he tugged you off of it and into the dense forest. 

A giggle bubbled up from you, already knowing what was coming. Far enough that you couldn’t be seen from the path, but close enough that he didn’t have to wait long before pressing you against a tree and continuing right where you had left off. His hands slid beneath your skirt as he kissed you, up your thighs to grab your panties and slide them down. You had to break away to pull them all the way off but once they were discarded he pressed his leg between yours and pushed you down into it. 

The bark of the tree at your back was rough, but you hardly noticed when you started to grind on his leg — no doubt making a mess as you were suddenly so much closer to coming than before. Your shirt was lifted over your tits, his hands coming out to grab and pinch as you threw your head back. 

“Fuck,” you whispered, “wait — “

Din’s hands pulled away lightning-fast, all other movements stopping. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you laughed, a little delirious, “want you inside of me, wanna come with you in me.” 

Din had to take a deep breath to calm down. Gently he pulled you from the tree, laid out the leather jacket, and got onto the ground as you laid on your back. His fingers danced up your legs, before they went to his jeans to unbutton and unzip and pull his cock out. Already leaking at the tip and twitching with how hard he was.

You were laid out on the forest floor, skirt hiked up as you opened your legs and your tits exposed to the air. Fallen leaves were getting caught in your hair, dirt no doubt getting on your clothes — reminiscent of the first time he ever saw you. His hands started to journey over your skin, healed and welcoming to touch. 

“Din,” you sighed, “please.”

“Missed you,” he murmured. “Just want to — '' take his time, reverently explore how warm and alive you were. Loving and safe and beautiful. 

You lifted yourself up onto your elbow, grabbing a fistful of his shirt to pull him to your lips and he let himself be pulled down his hands settling into the dirt as he steadied himself over you. 

“When we get back to the room,” you said gently, “you can take as long as you want.” He shuddered with the promise and you kissed him again, murmuring against his lips, “please, right now I — I need you.”

He couldn’t deny you. Could never dream of telling you no when you asked him like that. Slowly he lined up, groaning when he found you so fucking wet for him before he slid in — slow and steady. You gasped, the familiar stretch making your legs tremble. 

Once he was fully tucked inside of you, he had to stay still for a moment. Warm, silky wet, and perfect. Slowly he rocked his hips, and you wrapped your arms around him keeping him close. 

This was not going to last, he knew, it’d been too long and he was way too excited. You weren’t much farther off, because as good as he felt being inside of you — being filled by him was just as mind-blowing after so long. He was hitting everywhere you needed him, so close that he ground against your clit with every thrust. His face pressed into your neck, panting and kissing and groaning with every thrust. 

You came, fast and hard and with no reprieve as he fucked you through it. The clench of your cunt around him, the way you held on for dear life sending him just as quickly over the edge. He breathed loudly as he kept thrusting even as he started to soften in you, not wanting to leave the comforting warmth of you. 

It was nowhere near long enough, but after so long neither of you could be disappointed with the heavy wave of relief that washed over. 

When he lifted a little to look at you, your heart still felt like it was too full. Leather. Oil. The smell of the soil beneath you, the fresh air from the trees — above you the canopy letting in thin trails of sunlight that warmed your skin. His brown eyes staring down at yours with the easiest smile you had seen on his face in weeks. 

You smiled back, giving a little breathless laugh when you said, “I love you.” 

He faltered, a heavy breath leaving him. He swallowed hard and kissed you, long and soft and sweet. How was he supposed to pull away now? 

You stopped kissing when you heard voices, off in the distance from the direction of the path. The frozen shock giving way to a fit of laughter that you tried to stifle. 

“We should go before we get arrested for indecent exposure.” 

Din scoffed a little, helping you sit up as you two got situated again. It was hopeless, you were covered in dirt and leaves and cum dripped down between your thighs underneath the skirt. His hair was a mess, dark spots on his knees from kneeling in the dirt. It earned you some stares as you quickly made your way back up the dirt path and once you were back at the small hotel you were staying in. 

But when the door to your room closed, he was on you again, pulling you towards the bathroom and grabbing onto whatever skin he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a Translations:  
> birikad -- baby carrying harness
> 
> Help me decide what's next for biker!Mando!
> 
> https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSdsJTTmiQD2FBuSNyZNA-ufuxcPon86vvfEW_ndFVYvIaJ2VQ/viewform?usp=sf_link

**Author's Note:**

> This story is updated on my tumblr first, and there you can also see fanart and make requests/ask questions.  
> ollypopp.tumblr.com


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